Bad Medicine
by Time Traverser
Summary: America needs serious help...and England finds out the hard way, on Halloween night. Very loosely based on Hidekaz Himaruya's 2010 Halloween costume character designs. Rated M because of gore...NO ROMANCE!
1. Chapter 1

England smiled to himself evilly as he approached America's front door. That git may have gotten him last year. But tonight, England fully intended to chalk up another Halloween scare victory for himself. He mounted the steps onto the porch and prepared to knock, but stopped when he noticed the hurriedly written note taped to the door.

_'Sorry Iggy dude. Can't do Halloween thing this year. Something came up so I'm REALLY busy now. We'll totally hang next year, though._

_-USA_

_P.S.: I cannot stress this enough. __DO NOT ENTER__.'_

This was enough to give the English Nation pause. America's usually bold, heavy-handed writing was an uncharacteristically light scrawl across the paper. The signature was more of a scribbled afterthought than an actual confirmation of identity. England thought back to the American's odd behavior at the monthly World Meeting earlier.

_"What's wrong with your brother?" England asked America's twin. "He's done nothing but mutter to himself and stare at his feet all day."_

_Canada glanced at the agitated American worriedly. "I don't know, but it makes me nervous."_

_"Nervous?" the Englishman asked disbelievingly. "Why? You know that your brother would _never_ intentionally hurt you."_

_Canada frowned at the floor. "I know, but...the last time he was like this..." he shuddered, as if relieving an unpleasant memory._

_"Yes?" England pressed, leaning forward to catch the Canadian's answer._

_Canada's violet eyes met England's green ones with a level. "It wasn't fun. Let's leave it at that." Canada responded._

England studied the note, debating with himself. To enter, or not to enter? On one hand, this could _actually_ be a serious private matter that popped up at a bad time. But on the other hand...

_"Y-you can't be the real one..."_

_"He-he! That tickles!"_

The blond nation pulled out his wand from the folds of his clothing and tapped the keyhole twice. The lock clicked softly and England pushed the heavy oak door open. Restoring his decades long winning streak would be worth interrupting whatever America had going on. Such a loss cannot stand!

The aged wood floor creaked under England's weight as he made his way through the familiar living room. All the lights were out, which was understandable given the hour. But the place was oddly without Halloween decorations. Even if something did come up to cancel Halloween for America, he would still have decorations up due to the short notice, right? It gave the normally cheery house an almost desolate feel.

England crept up the stairs and towards America's bedroom. He gently nudged the door open and peeked inside. The bed had no sign of having been used, but there _was_ a light on in the adjoining bathroom. America must be in there. England pulled out his wand again and snuck towards the bathroom, careful to not make a sound. He peeked around the corner and...

It was empty. Although it was evident that someone_ had_ been there. The medicine cabinet was open, and assorted objects, presumably from the cabinet, littered the counter. England stepped closer to the scene to investigate, and felt his foot kick something plastic on the ground. He knelt down to pick it up and study it. It was an empty orange pill bottle. But there was no label on it. It had apparently been flung aside after America had opened it, if the missing cap was anything to go by. With this England could conclude that either America took the last of whatever was in it, or it the American had found it empty. He frowned and placed it on the counter. Should he have heeded the notice on the door?

England shook himself. There's no going back now. He had a mission to carry out. His target wasn't here apparently. And England could bet he wasn't in the house because he would have seen some sign of it downstairs. So, the only place left to look was the backyard, and possibly the wooded patch behind it.

The Englishman made his way back down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He saw the American's phone on the counter. England tapped the cracked screen and saw that the most recent activity was a call made to his brother, Canada. Apparently there had been no reply. The sliding glass door leading out back was wide open. England noticed that it had been opened hard enough for the glass on one of the doors to break into large, jagged triangles. He picked his way through the glass as carefully as he could, and surveyed the backyard. It was rather large, as expected from America. But it was overall featureless aside from a barbeque area, a manicured lawn, and a dilapidated stable-turned shed. England crossed the lawn and stealthily entered the shed, thinking that America would be in there.

Black shapes were all England could make out in the dark. The place had a sinister aura, and the coppery smell that invaded his nose certainly didn't help matters. Was it rust he smelt...or blood? The blond nation steeled himself again. The nature of his errand must be lending to these less than desirable thoughts popping out of nowhere.

England's musings were interrupted by the sound of heavy boots and the flimsy wooden door being shoved open. The Englishman smiled to himself and pulled out his wand. He made a circling motion with the tip and tapped himself on the head three times, turning himself invisible. It wouldn't last forever, he knew. But long enough to deliver a Halloween scare that wouldn't be forgotten!

The sound of America's heavy boots got closer, accompanied by a curious scraping sound along the wood floor. America grunted and plopped something onto a workbench towards the back of the room. England peered through the darkness to get a better look at the tall Nation.

It didn't take a genius to see that something wasn't right. The American took what seemed to be a knife that glinted in the darkness and something that looked vaguely like a pair of pliers from a nearby toolbox. He hunched over the thing on the workbench and began to work at it. Disgusting sucking and squirting sounds emitted from the form, and England shivered. What _was_ that thing?

Then America began to sing. His usually light and airy voice was heavy and extremely low.

_"Lizzie Borden took an axe..."_ he sang, finally managing to wrench something free from the thing.

_"Gave her mother forty whacks..._" America put his prize to the side and hefted the object up and onto his shoulder. He also took a moment to retrieve a tool of some kind with a long handle with his free hand.

_"When she saw what she had done..."_ he made his way back towards the front of the shed, presumably to take it outside.

In a split-second decision, England decided to finally confront America. He jumped from his hiding place, setting off the illusion spell he had prepared for the occasion. The illusions of specters and ghouls filled the space, howling and screaming in god-awful voices that should have sent America running for the hills.

Oddly enough though, he didn't. England couldn't make quite out his expression in the dark, but he was evidently surprised. Not scared, like England had hoped, but surprised.

America's form twitched, and he dropped the load that he was carrying. "England! No, no, no, y-you can't be here! Not now!" The English Nation noticed that America's voice was back to normal.

England cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms."Why not? And what are you doing, exactly?"

"L-later. Just go! Go now!" America snapped frantically, beginning to push England towards the door.

The shorter Nation wrenched free of America's grip and rooted himself squarely in the American's path. "Or what?" he demanded. "What are you doing? What's so important?"

America twitched again. "Go away! Be stubborn later when I'm-when it's safe! Just GO!" He shooed the England towards the exit again.

England heard clear desperation in America's voice, causing him to stop despite himself. "Let me _help_ you!"

"Don't-," he twitched a third time. "Don't do this. I can't st-" He froze. His expression fell completely blank. England waved a hand in front of his blue eyes, which were unresponsive. The Englishman stole a glance at the form America had dropped on the ground, and stumbled back in horror.

It looked like a body, barely recognizable as anything ather than the fact it had once been human. It was covered in a terrible set of wounds, and was missing an entire leg thanks to a jagged cut that had rendered it a stump.

America's body spasmed as he woke up again, but he was...disturbed again. Like a completely different person. A _dangerous_ person. He slowly straightened himself and cricked his neck. He looked down at the English Nation, who was wondering if he could get away in time. The American's eyes were concealed by the glare of his glasses against the filtered moonlight, but England was prepared to swear that they looked red.

"Alfred..." England used his human name in hopes of getting to the America he knew.

America gave a chilling smile and said nothing. He hefted the tool in his other hand onto his shoulder. England could now see that it was a pickaxe.

"Alfred n-" England jumped back, narrowly missing the American's swing. He looked at the Nation disbelievingly, but there was absolutely no recognition in America's oddly colored eyes. Just anger. He turned and ran, ducking just in time to hear the _whoosh _of the pickaxe as it sailed over his head and bit into the door on his way out.

He ran into the woods behind the yard, and came to regret it. He didn't know where the hell he was now. All he could do was keep running and hope that America hadn't caught up. He came across a tree and struck upon an idea that he decided just might save his current life. He shimmied up the tree as quickly as possible, settled on a branch with enough leaves left so that they would conceal him. He struggled to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

America just tried to kill him. It couldn't have been a Halloween prank, although he sorely wished that it was. That pickaxe came _much_ too close to braining him for it to have all been a joke. England took a deep breath and organized his thoughts into a list.

1) America's eyes turned red, and his personality changed with them.

2) He tried to stop himself, or at least get England away from him before he changed again.

The English Nation wracked his brain. What _else_ was there? He thought back to what he had seen in the house.

3) The empty pill bottle on the bathroom floor.

4) The unanswered phone call to Canada.

5) The broken sliding glass door.

6) The notice on the front door.

Then he recalled the American's behavior earlier that day. He was muttering to himself, his hands clenched down at his sides and he had refused to make eye contact with anybody.

7) He knew this was coming.

And he seemed to remember Canada mention something...

8) It's happened before, and his brother knew it too.

England's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of autumn leaves crunching under someone's boots. America had tracked him this far. But would he see England up in the tree?

He waited, not even daring to breath as he watched the top of the American's blond head swivel around, his hands brandishing the pickaxe. In the slightly better light, England could see things that he hadn't seen in the shed. For one, instead of wearing his beloved bomber jacket , America was clad in a longer worn coat, with greenish-brown stains along it's ragged bottom and a single faded white star patch on it's left sleeve. Instead of a pair of jeans he wore dark brown trousers, and heavy steel-toed boots had replaced his sneakers.

England sucked in a breath, a little too loud apparently. The American's head whipped around to his general direction, his disconcerting red eyes scanning the tree tops. Miraculously though, America exhaled and stomped off in another direction. England waited until he was out of earshot to sit back on the trunk and control his breathing. He went back to the list he had formed, and started to put the pieces together.

America was bothered earlier, he knew this...attack would happen. The pill bottle...that was medicine most likely meant to prevent this. He found the thing empty, remembered that England was coming, and wrote down a note to warn him off. After that...he tried to call Canada. Presumably for help.

England suddenly remembered that he had brought his own phone with him. He pulled it out of his pocket and scrolled through his contact list until he saw Canada's number. He couldn't risk calling, for fear of being heard. But he _could_ text.

_To: Canada_  
><em>From: England<em>

_Your brother has gone insane and is trying to kill me with a pickaxe._

He hit send and waited. His phone vibrated with a reply two minutes later.

_To: England_  
><em>From: Canada<em>

_I thought the pickaxe was Russia's thing...did you piss him off somehow?_

England texted back.

_To: Canada_  
><em>From: England<em>

_No. His eyes just turned red and now I'm hiding in a tree. HELP ME!_

Canada's response was almost instantaneous.

_To: England_  
><em>From: Canada<em>

_Run if you can, hide if you can't. I'll be right there._

England bit his lip and put his phone back in his pocket. He listened for a noise, any noise. But the woods were deathly silent. He shifted uncomfortably on the bark of the tree. America didn't seem to be around. Could he find his out of these woods in time? And if so, should he try and find a main road, or go back to the house and to his car?

The green eyed Nation gave an involuntary shudder. The last thing he wanted to do was go anywhere near that shed. If America had given up on his search, he's most likely go back there. Although, America lived quite a ways away from the main road. For such a social Nation he always seemed to enjoy his seclusion...now that England thought about it, this was probably why. Less people around would mean less people that could get hurt.

Of course, that also meant that it might take Canada a bit too long to get here. America would find him here eventually, especially since he was on America's land. So staying and hiding was not an option. So, it would have to be the house, and then his car. Hopefully he could avoid America on the way there. A bit of magic to help him along couldn't hurt either.

He clambered down the tree and hit the ground as softly as possible. Better to not make any noise. England pulled out his wand and clasped it in both hands, concentrating on America's house. He felt the wand tug him in a certain direction, as if being pulled by a magnet. This was the way to go. He turned and began to make his way back to the house, hoping beyond hope that the American wouldn't find him. He traveled carefully, freezing if if he thought he heard a noise, peering at every shadow suspiciously in case America hid there. It was slow going, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he caught a glimpse of the house. Now he could get _out_ of here!

His thoughts were interrupted as abruptly as his airways as he felt a cold, dry hand clamp around his throat. In his panic to break free, he dropped his wand. It was kicked away by the American's boot.


	2. Chapter 2

America still would say nothing. He began to drag the Englishman towards the accursed shed. The shorter Nation struggled. His lungs felt like they would explode and he began to see black spots in his vision. His strength began to falter as America pulled him inside. Through his hazed vision he could see a carpenter's hammer on a table nearby. He struggled to reach it, his fingers just barely brushing against-

"Aha!" England wheezed as he swung it at his captor's head. America's head snapped back, and his grip was eased just enough for England to wrench free. He made a mad dash for the door, burst outside, and stumbled across the yard towards the broken sliding glass door. He spotted his wand and scooped it up as he went. He heard footsteps behind him, getting closer. England twisted around and pointed the wand at his pursuer. _"Jactus!" _he cried, sending a small concentrated point of raw invisible force straight at America's chest.

America grunted and staggered back, winded. England practically jumped through the door, and into the kitchen. He ran through the living room and sailed out the front door. He was just in time to see Canada pull up in an old red pickup truck.

"England!" Canada said, evidently relieved. He looked the elder Nation up and down. "You don't look so good..."

England was tempted to chuckle hysterically for two reasons. One was the rather obvious statement by Canada, the other being that he was still alive. But he settled for his usual sarcasm. "I assume you got my texts. Of _course_ I don't look so good, your brother just tried to _kill me_!"

Canada grimaced. "Yes, I got your texts." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic case containing a syringe filled with an cloudy blue liquid. "This will calm him down."

England nodded and glanced at the house behind him, expecting America to emerge at any moment. He observed Canada's solemn expression. "Does this happen often?"

"Well..." Canada hesitated for a moment as he thought. "I know his erm-_symptoms_ have rarely gotten this far. But I don't know how often he feels them coming. That's why he has medicine that he's _supposed_ to take when he does."

"Medicine?" England asked, remembering the pill bottle.

Canada popped open the plastic case and withdrew the syringe, hiding it behind his back. "Yes, America's 'friend' Tony made it when he learned of these little episodes."

England raised an eyebrow. "Little? Now _that's_-"

He was interrupted by the terrible familiar stomping sound that heralded America's approach. Red eyes glared from behind his glasses and the pickaxe gleamed evilly in the moonlight. He took another step, but came to a stop when he noticed Canada.

Canada took a cautious step forward, as if approaching a wild animal. "America, it's time to take your medicine now."

The American bared his teeth and brandished his weapon. He began to approach his twin threateningly, but stopped as Canada revealed the syringe from behind his back. "Come now, don't make this difficult." He offered a hand to America and said, "You know I'm right."

America snarled silently and swung the pickaxe in a smooth arc over his head. Canada scrambled back just in time to avoid the attack. But the American anticipated this and used the Canadian's backwards momentum against him by kicking him hard in the chest. Canada hit the ground and rolled out of the way to avoid having the tip of the weapon come to bear on his forehead.

England stared for a moment and then shook himself out of his stupor. He couldn't just stand there and do absolutely _nothing_ while Canada fought for his life! He pulled his wand out again and made a rapid flourish in America's direction. _"Restringo!"_ he yelled. America pitched forward as his legs snapped together of their own accord, and his arms were forced to his torso. As long as England kept his concentration, America would be immobilized.

Canada picked himself up off the ground and brushed the dirt off. "Thanks," he said.

England nodded, sweat already popping out on his forehead as he focused the tip of the wand in America's direction to keep the spell going. The super strength thing wasn't really helping matters either!

Canada pulled out the syringe again. He knelt down by America's frozen form and administered the formula through his upper arm. He straightened himself and turned to England. "You can let go now."

England dropped the spell and sagged. He watched in awe as the American's unusual red eyes filtered back into their normal sky blue. He gained a goofy smile that was much more characteristic of the fun-loving and oblivious Nation everyone knew. "Pretty stars," America said sleepily as his head lolled back. His eyelids fluttered closed and he began to snore softly.

England studied his former colony's prone form. "Why did no one tell me?"

"Only two other Nations know, and even then it was by accident. I found out on a hunting trip that took a turn for the worse. Russia found out in the Cold War, if the bandages were anything to go by. while Prussia found out in much the same way you did, a prank gone wrong." He bent down and grasped America's shoulders. "Now come help me."

England stepped forward and took America's legs. He raised an eyebrow at the Canadian, "How did you know I was here for that?"

Canada shot the older Nation a wry smile. "Why else would you be _here_, by _choice_, on _Halloween night_?" He hefted his side up off the ground.

England followed suit. "Indeed," he responded. The carried him inside and plopped him on the couch. Both Nations were silent for a while. "How long?" he finally asked.

The younger Nation shrugged. "I don't know. This never happened when we were kids." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope. "Now I know he's out of medicine, otherwise this wouldn't have happened. Make him take one of these when he wakes up, or he may relapse."

England took the envelope. "You're leaving?" he asked.

Canada got up from his seat. "Yes, I have to check out of my hotel room and start the long drive home. He's in fine hands now." He made his way out of the front door. England listened to Canada's pickup truck start in the driveway, and the sound of the motor fade away as he went further down the road.

America finally stirred as the morning light began to filter through the windows. He propped himself up on his pillow. "Wha-_ow!_' he brought a hand up to his forehead where England flicked him. "Dude, what the hell?"

The English Nation settled a light glare on the younger. "That's for trying to kill me. Dying is very inconvenient, as you know." He opened the envelope and withdrew a small blue pill. He held it in front of America's nose.

America grimaced, snatched it, and swallowed it dry. He shivered as the pill began to do it's work, and sat up on the couch. He regarded the Englishman across from him. "So..." he said. "...you're alive, I see."

England nodded and the American continued. "Even after you _disregarded_ my warning, came _into_ the shed, _confronted_ me like a stubborn idiot, and then came _back_ to the house even though you should have known that I'd probably go back there _first_. Thank God Canada showed up!" He sighed and brought a hand up to his temple with eyes half closed. "At least, that's what I remember from the flashes."

England nodded again. "Yes, although I think you're the one at fault for not keeping an eye on your medicine supply."

America scoffed. "I forgot that I was out of pills. And like I said before, you didn't take heed of my note." He eyed the Englishman. "So, it's mostly you're fault."

"Instead of talking about who's fault this is, lets talk about this...condition of yours." England leaned forward. "When did it start, and why didn't you tell me?"

America leaned back on the couch and was silent for a moment as he sifted back through his memories. "Well..." he hesitated. "The first time was in 1893, during the World's Fair." He glanced at England. "Do you remember the thing about the hotel and that H. H. Holmes guy?"

England thought back to that year. "I believe I heard something about that, yes."

America closed his eyes. "I never told you, but I visited that hotel. I was supposed to stay there during the fair. But I went inside and..." he trailed off.

"Yes?" England pressed.

"Something...happened. I went into one of rooms and then I was just _gone_. Replaced by...the other me, I guess. Things I wouldn't even _dream_ of doing were suddenly...okay."

England leaned back. "That's...really odd. This can't be normal for a Nation, we would've learned of it by now." He connected the tips of his fingers, thinking. "Alright then. I'll drop a few discreet lines of inquiry. I want to know why this happens, just in case another Nation starts to feel it. Why haven't you told me before?"

America opened his eyes again. "Because I didn't especially like you when this first started. And I'm sure the feeling was mutual. After our relations got better I thought I might tell you, but then I decided against it because it was a bad time, being WWII and all. The Cold War destroyed any chance I had of telling you in the '60's and 70's. After that I decided to just not tell you and make things easier on myself."

"Well from now on, I'm in the loop," England stated with finality. "I am permanently involved, you can't keep me in the dark, and if anything happens concerning this you are to tell me _immediately_."

America looked down at the fabric of the couch. "O-okay." He looked up again and stared at England intently. "You can't tell anyone, seriously. The less people who know, the better."

England nodded solemnly. "Alright." He patted America on the shoulder. "We'll figure this out."

* * *

><p><strong>I know, I know. I have another story that I <em>really<em> should've updated by now. But this plot bunny has bothered me for a while now and grew past one chapter. So tell me, should I continue it, if I promise not to let it get in the way of the other one? **

**Thanks for any reviews, favs or follows this may get. Seeing that people found something of mine worth reading is totally awesome.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	3. Chapter 3

The next month's meeting in Berlin was especially strenuous, although Germany would rather call it pointless. Italy wasn't even _trying_ to be quiet as he chatted happily with Japan, who had given up on the meeting entirely. Prussia was laughing and being a general nuisance to Austria, not noticing Hungary's rising ire and the frying pan held behind her back. America and Denmark were at the end of the table, huddled over each other's phones and snickering, while England, france, and Spain were having a three-way argument over something...probably pirates.

Germany sat at the head of the table with his head in his hands, not willing to try and get everyone on task for the third time. He pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache he felt coming. The German Nation looked down at his attendance roster. He idly noticed that Russia was absent, and neither was Cana-oh, wait. He looked up at Canada's assigned seat, and found it empty. He scanned the table and found that Canada had moved to sit next to Finland. Germany sighed and checked off the Canadian's name. If he keeps moving seats like that he'll keep getting overlooked when they called attendance!

Germany put down his pen and shifted to rest his chin on his hands with his elbows on the table. He listened to snippets of assorted conversations going on around the room.

"OMG, that's totally awesome!" America laughed, leaning back in his chair and taking out his earbuds.

Denmark nodded happily. "Yep, and I can't_ wait_ until he finds out that I put it on the internet!"

"Don't you _dare_ you perverted frog," England growled at France.

The Frenchman grinned lewdly. "You know you can't resist true _love_, Anglettere!"

"Oh? How interesting." Japan said to Italy. "I had no idea there was such difficulty in building the Duomo di Firenze."

Italy gave a bright smile. "Mhmm! I was so happy when they finally finished it!"

Germany scooted in his chair to give Prussia some room to pass as he retreated from a pissed off Hungarian. "West," he pleaded, "Help me out here!"

Germany didn't even look behind him. "You should know better after a century or three, don't you think?"

Prussia didn't answer as he broke into a jog in an effort to put the length of the table between himself and Hungary. The Hungarian smiled sweetly and reversed directions to meet the Prussian head-on.

Germany sighed again. This meeting is going on for _four more days_. Who the hell invented these things anyways? They've been going on for as long as anyone can really remember..._Rome_ even had World Meetings, back in the day. Although they were certainly much different, Germany was sure.

His musing were interrupted by a large _BANG!_ that echoed throughout the room. All eyes turned to the large double doors, and the tall nation standing just inside the threshold. Russia smiled innocently into the silence for a moment. "I brought the pickaxe today!" he said as if he were a child bringing a test with a 100% grade to a parent. He dragged said object behind him, making it scrape along the floor with an ugly sound.

Germany looked down at his roster as Russia sat in a seat right near him. "You're late," Germany commented.

Russia's expression didn't change. "I had an issue with security over the pickaxe," he explained.

"Duly noted," Germany responded as he marked Russia's name and set his pen down again. He was just not up to being cautious around Russia today. Although he was curious as to why he had brought the pickaxe, which Germany had seen only twice before. He didn't intend to ask though.

The so-called 'meeting' broke into chatter again, and things continued as normal for some time more. Although the German Nation did notice that England was stealing glances between the pickaxe and America, as was Canada for that matter. Germany still didn't intend to ask, though. If it was important, he'd probably learn of it.

His ears perked at a rattling sound coming from his right. He glanced at Russia and saw that he had taken out what looked like a pill bottle, and was now trying struggling with the cap.

"What is that?" Germany asked.

Russia huffed and put the bottle on the table. "Some interesting candy I found in America's room, but I can't open it."

Germany eyed the northern Nation suspiciously. "You know that isn't-"

"Hey, that's mine!"

Everyone's attention turned towards America, who was on his feet with his hands tightly gripping the edge of the table. He settled a glare on the Russian. "What the fuck were you doing in my _room_?" he demanded.

Russia shrugged. "I was bored. What are these, anyways?" he shook the bottle.

"They're _mine_," America snapped. "Now give them back!"

Russia held the bottle closer to his chest. "Tell me what they are, first."

"It's none of your business," America responded angrily. "You had no right to take them!"

The room was completely silent, listening to the exchange with interest. Germany thought he caught sight of Canada and England exchanging a significant look, but wasn't sure.

"Это привыкание, Америка? Незаконное возможно?" Russia asked. Those fluent in Russian looked towards America for his response. Is it possible for a Nation to succumb to such a dirty vice?

"Нет, это здоровье вещь," America responded defensively. His eye twitched, almost imperceptibly.

Canada's eyes widened slightly, and England sucked in a breath. Germany was legitimately alarmed now. He felt a presence to his left, Prussia had rejoined him, his flight from Hungary forgotten. The albino leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Machen Sie ihm geben es zurück, oder die Dinge werden schlecht."

The German Nation nodded. He looked at Russia with what he hoped was a careless look. "Just give it back, the meeting's about to convene for the day and I want to go home."

Russia raised an eyebrow. "If you don't mind, I will keep it for now. If America does not show signs of withdrawal, I will return it to him tomorrow." With his conditions stated, he briskly walked out of the deathly silent room. The door closed with a finalizing _BOOM!_ and retreating footsteps could be heard going down the adjacent hallway.

Germany waited until the footsteps had completely receded before standing up. "This assembly shall reconvene tomorrow at 9:00 AM. Don't be late, or I will have the police take you into custody and drag you here in handcuffs."

Most of Nations present gave some sort of vague sign of understanding as they trickled out. Those who didn't well...they would find that Germany doesn't make a habit of bluffing. Germany gathered his papers and put them in his briefcase. He looked up and saw that the only stragglers were America, Canada, and England.

"Damn commie," America muttered. "He's just stirring up the pot."

"Don't get worked up, Alfred. Especially not now," Canada advised, putting a placating hand on his shoulder.

"What are the chances of...it?" England asked hesitatingly, almost as if afraid of the answer.

America shrugged. "I dunno, it pops up randomly. I usually keep it with me, but I didn't realize that I'd left it in my room until it was too late to go back and get it."

England pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright just...just hold it in. Don't overwork yourself, and don't dwell on Russia. It's just until tomorrow."

Germany was curious as to what they were talking about. Prussia seemed to have an idea, so the German Nation resolved to ask him at home. He left the room as discreetly as possible, making sure the door would close with a quiet _click_.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter for this one. I feel it will probably be <em>maybe<em> two or three more chapters before it comes to a conclusion. **

**Translations(courtesy of Google Translate, because I don't speak a lick of Russian or German):**

**Russian- **

**_"Это привыкание, Америка? Незаконное возможно?"_ "Is it addictive America? Illegal perhaps?"**

**_"Нет, это здоровье вещь,"_ "No, it's a health thing."**

**German-**

**_"Machen Sie ihm geben es zurück, oder die Dinge werden schlecht."_ "Make him give it back, or things will get bad."**

**Later dudes! ^J^**


	4. Chapter 4

"Bruder," Germany called as he got home. "Are you here?"

He heard a C_rash!_ upstairs, and took that as a yes. He sighed and made his way up the stairs and into his room. He put his briefcase on his bed and stepped back out into the hallway. Germany heard another loud noise coming from Prussia's room and decided to investigate. He opened the door to find the Prussian searching through his closet for something. Germany elected to ignore the half empty bottle of beer from his own secret stash on the bedside table for the time being. "What are you looking for?" he asked

Prussia's head stuck out from the closet, his silver hair slightly mussed. "My sword," he replied shortly. Prussia dove back into his closet and the noises continued.

"Why would you need a sword?" Germany asked curiously.

"Because bullets didn't work last time!" came the albino's muffled answer. The noises stopped and Prussia emerged with an elegant long sword sheathed in a leather scabbard.

Germany raised an eyebrow as he watched his brother inspect the sword. "What last time?"

Prussia paused and looked over his shoulder at his brother. "Well...let's just say that some things are funny _here_," he pointed at his temple, "but not funny _here_." He pointed at his mouth.

"Please stop speaking in riddles and tell me what this is all about," Germany pleaded. He hated it when his brother decided to be cryptic.

Prussia pulled the blade partway out of it's housing and began inspecting it for damage. "Do you remember how America was acting during the October World Meeting?"

Germany shook his head. "I wasn't there, remember?"

"Oh, right," Prussia frowned. "Then do you remember back in 1980 when I came home with giant rips in some of my clothing and a missing eyetooth?"

Germany cocked his head as he sifted through his memories. "Yes...you never did tell me what that was about."

Prussia grimaced at the memory. "That's what happened the last time someone got between the United States of America and his medicine."

"_He_ did that?" Germany asked in disbelief. "I always thought you two got along rather well."

"Yeah," Prussia said. "Usually." He sat down on his bed and patted the spot next to him. "Let me tell you how this went..."

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><p><em>"Prussia, my man! Wassup?" asked America jovially as he noticed him coming up the driveway. He shut off the chainsaw he was using and shook the Nation's hand warmly.<em>

_The albino shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I was in town and heard you were too so I rented a car and came to see you. But...'in town' is a bit too generous a term, isn't it? What made you live in the middle of the effing woods, anyways?"_

_America rubbed the back of his head. "I like to get away from things when I come home, avoid the hustle and bustle of the city and constant world travel for a little bit."_

_"I can understand that," Prussia said with an incline of his head. He surveyed the scene, and the power tool clutched in America's left hand. "Whatcha doing?"_

_The American gestured towards the pieces of what used to be a tree in front of him. "I'm stocking up on firewood before winter hits. Cutting it myself is waaay cheaper than going thirty miles to the General Supplies store and buying it."_

_Prussia nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Cool..." he was about to continue when he saw his friend suddenly drop the chainsaw with a clatter._

_"America?" Prussia asked, worried. He looked at the American, who had seemingly froze in time. He waved a hand in front of his face. "Alfred?"_

_America burst into motion, sprinting for the cabin-style house at the end of the drive. Prussia followed him into the living room, and watched as America made a mad dash to the bathroom. Prussia peeked through the open door and saw the tall Nation pull an orange pill bottle out of the medicine cabinet, withdraw a small blue pill, and gulp it down dry. America shivered as whatever it was that he took began to work. Prussia did his best to look like he hadn't been watching as the American came out of the bathroom. _

_"Sorry, dude," America said apologetically. "I have...stomach issues."_

_"Stomach issues?" Prussia asked with a raised eyebrow. _

_"Yeah, started a while ago, but I've never been sure why," he placed his hands on his abdomen and said jokingly. "It pops up at the worst times, too!" _

_Prussia nodded. "Alright then." The gears in his head started turning as he watched the younger Nation begin to gather freshly cut firewood and carry it towards an already existing stack on the covered porch. "Hey, can I stay here for the night?" _

_"Sure dude, it's cool. The spare room's already made," he gestured to the remaining pieces of wood littering the ground. "Mind helping me with this?"_

_Prussia bent down and began to gather wood. "Not a problem, especially since you're putting me up for the night."_

_Later, both Nations were preparing for bed. America walked by Prussia's room wrapped in a towel. "All yours. Night, dude!" The Master bedroom door shut and Prussia leaped into action. He took out pajamas, a towel, and a toothbrush and made his way to the bathroom. He took a shower and while brushing his teeth, made sure to take the pill bottle he had seen and hide it in the linens closet down the hall. With a mischievous smile he settled on the couch in the living room to wait._

_At about midnight, a dozing Prussia started at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. He knew he couldn't be seen from his position, because he had planned ahead when he picked the couch as a waiting spot. He listened as a drawer was opened, then another, and another. Pretty soon he could hear muffled curses as America searched the bathroom for his pills. Then all fell silent for a while._

_Prussia sank further into the couch as he heard footsteps exit the bathroom, go down the hall, and into the entryway. The albino sat up slightly in confusion as he heard the front door open, and close. Where was he going? He stole back into his room, got into his day clothes again, and went outside to find out what America was up to._

_"America?" Prussia called out from the porch. There was no answer, but he thought he heard a noise coming from the garage. He stepped off the porch and walked around to the garage, finding the wide car bay door to be open. He stepped cautiously, peeking around the corner to see what was going on. In the dark, he could see Alfred's form rummaging through the cabinets where the tools were kept. Prussia saw the silhouette of the chainsaw from earlier and flattened himself against the wall, trying to make himself invisible. He can't really be that angry now over some stomach pills, can he?_

_As America left the garage, and Prussia noticed an odd change in fashion taste. Since when did he prefer long coats with grass, dirt, and possibly blood stains? Or heavy work boots with equally suspicious stains for that matter? The albino had maximum serial killer-horror movie-bad feeling about this one. He waited until the American was out of sight before risking movement. He tiptoed back onto the covered porch, through the front door and back into his room. He gathered his car keys, resolving to collect everything else when America had...calmed down. _

_On his way out he passed the linens closet again. He paused right by it. It _was_ his fault that this was happening...and what if he _doesn't_ calm down? Prussia cursed himself for having a conscience, took the pill bottle from it's hiding spot and withdrew two blue pills from it. One for now, and one for his pocket just in case things don't go to plan._

_Prussia went back outside and looked around. Where would Mr. Crazy Chainsaw America go? He turned full circle and studied the surrounding woods. Anywhere there was people, Prussia supposed. But there _are_ no people except..._

_...except for himself of course._

_Prussia grimaced and walked into the nearest patch of woods. He only walked for about five minutes before he felt like he was being followed. He gripped one of the pills tightly in his hand and turned to face behind him. No one was there. He turned back around and found America standing maybe ten feet in front of him. Prussia peered closely at the figure before him, but didn't find the friend he knew behind those red eyes._

_The albino showed no outward fear as he held up the blue pill in his hand. "Alfred, please take this. For everyone's sake."_

_The American said nothing. He flipped the switch on his chainsaw, and stepped forward as the machine revved up. Prussia backed away slowly. Immortal or not, he knew this particular death would be _especially_ not awesome if he was caught. He sidestepped America's upwards swing, turned on his heel, and sprinted towards the house. He needed a way to subdue America long enough to administer the pill, and he knew of the blond Nation's habit to keep as many guns in his house as Switzerland did. America stomped after him, and was slowly but surely gaining on him. Prussia spurred himself faster and the house came into view. He leapt over the porch steps and dashed inside, not bothering to bar the door, knowing it would be futile. He glanced around the entryway. Where would America keep a-aha!_

_The silver haired Nation plunged his hand into the umbrella stand that had absolutely no business being there, and curled his hands around sawed-off pump action shotgun that was hidden between two gaudy umbrellas. He pulled it out and worked the action just in time for America to burst in. He aimed in the general direction of the front door and fired. He was dismayed to see that the 12-gauge turkey-shot load was only enough to stagger his pursuer for a brief moment. He pumped the action and fired again, and again, and again until the weapon clicked empty._

_"Goddamn it!" Prussia cursed as he flung the useless thing aside. America swung the chainsaw in an effort to slice the albino's abdomen open, but Prussia jumped back just enough for the machine to just catch his clothing. America lashed out with one hand and tried for the Prussian's face, which was enough for Prussia to feel his jaw crack and a tooth fly out. He backed up and put both hands against his mouth. Unfortunately, the cabin prevented for much further movement as he found himself cornered against a wall._

_America cracked a cold smile and finally spoke. "I've always preferred the pickaxe myself." His voice was odd...angry, but also something else. "But this will do."_

_Prussia took the opportunity to spit the pill he had stuck between his teeth straight into America's mouth. The blond Nation recoiled in surprise, inadvertently swallowing it. His grip loosened on the albino and Prussia distanced himself as much as possible. America began to twitch and spasm, his eyes going between red and blue before settling on their normal cheerful blue color. He sank to the ground, the chainsaw was released and clattered off to the side, forgotten._

_Prussia looked down at the young Nation. "Stomach issues, huh?" he asked with his arms crossed._

_America looked up at the albino drowsily. "You...you hid them...not...cool..." he laid his head back down on the ground and fell asleep._

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><p>As Prussia finished his tale, Germany stared at his brother skeptically. "That's a lot you're asking me to believe," he said. "I mean, it sounds like something out of a slasher film! Not even a Nation should be able to shake off a shotgun shell that quickly."<p>

Prussia shrugged and laid his sword on the bed. "I'm not asking you to believe me," he said. "I'm asking you to be careful with that boy. When he's like that...well, it's quite an experience."

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><p><strong>Aaaaaand this chapter is done. Just a little more so hang in there!<strong>

**Thanks for reading this story and favoriting and following and stuff. Drop a review in the jar on your way out?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	5. Chapter 5

England woke up groggily to hear insistent banging on his hotel room door. He sighed, slid off of his comfortable bed, trudged across the cool wooden floor, and opened the door. "Wot d'you want at this bloody hour?" he grumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. As his vision cleared he was able to make out two figures menacing looking figures decked out in black standing before him.

"You, of course," the shortest one said. Before England had time to react, his silent partner pulled out an odd looking pistol, and England blacked out.

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><p>Germany sat up sharply in his bed at the sound of the doorbell downstairs. He checked his alarm clock on the bedside table. Who would be calling upon him at 1:00 in the morning? He swung his legs over the side of his bed and made his way down the stairs. He found Prussia was awake, although it didn't seem like the albino had gone to bed at all.<p>

"Are you expecting anyone?" Germany asked. One could never know with Prussia.

The pale Nation shook his head and gave the door a suspicious glance. "Should we answer it?"

"I don't know..." Germany responded. "Remind me to have a peephole installed in the door so that we may avoid these situations on the future."

"It could be important," Prussia mused aloud with a hand on his chin. "Or it could be bad."

Germany frowned. "Well, let's not sit here and wait for it." He strode across the living room and undid the deadbolt on the door. He opened it, took one look at the people on his porch, and slammed the door shut again. he blond Nation shut the deadbolt with a clunk and backed away.

"What?" Prussia asked, alarmed at his brother's behavior.

"Kidnappers," Germany answered grimly.

Prussia raised an eyebrow. "Again?"

"I've come to expect it at this point," Germany said as he wondered if he could get to a weapon in time. He struck upon an idea as he glanced towards the direction of the back door. "Come o-" he was cut off by the sound of breaking glass. Green smoke rapidly filled the room and Germany felt weaker with each breath of the sickly sweet substance.

"Chloroform!" Prussia gasped between coughs. "What a dirty, _dirty_ little trick!" He broke off into a coughing fit again. Germany heard the sound of strange peoples' voices as he lost consciousness.

An oddly accented voice was heard first, muffled behind what Germany assumed was a gas-mask. "Load them onto the van and take them to the warehouse! Mr. Jay has a plan for these two and I will _not_ disappoint!"

"Yes, sir!" another muffled voice stated.

Then all was silent.

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><p>Russia studied the pill bottle closely. He knows he's seen it before, but where? And why was it so important to America? Russia leaned back in his seat as he heard a knock on his door. Now who could that possibly be? He scooted the chair back and stood, regarding the door suspiciously. It wasn't often that someone would bother coming to see him. And at this hour it could only be trouble. He glanced at his pickaxe that leaned against the wall and reached over to grasp it's handle. he turned it over in his hands. What had possessed him to take this instead of his pipe again?<p>

Oh, yes. It annoys America to absolutely no end. Russia knew why of course, but he wasn't worried. America was usually good about controlling...that. Although how he did it was beyond Russia completely. But back to the matter at hand.

Who could be on the other side of that door? Russia waited. If it was someone he knew, they could speak to him through the door. The fact that they hadn't already was subject to suspicion. Russia waited some more as the knocking grew impatient, and then became a loud banging that shook the door in it's frame. Yes, definitely an intruder. He readied the pickaxe and waited until the door burst open and three men came in, wearing all black with bulky looking rifles. Probably tranquilizer guns. Ah, it was always fun when kidnappers became involved.

Russia smiled at them brightly. "I left specifically requested no maid, it's clearly marked by the sign on my door that you just broke. Can't you read?" He raised the pickaxe and brought it to bear on the one closest to him. The man crumbled and Russia turned to his two companions. "You should learn to read, da?"

The one nearest spoke to his associate. "Shoot him, already!" He backed away as Russia approached.

The one who lingered next to the door was indeed new to his job, if the fumbling with his gun's safety switch was anything to go by. "Got it!" the young man crowed victoriously as he spun the barrel at Russia and pulled the trigger. Russia slowed as the tranquilizer began to effect him and hinder his movement. But he would not be brought down so easily-"

He felt two more sharp pains in his torso and shoulder, and pitched forward, his vision fading to black.

* * *

><p>America stared at a single point on the wall, distracting himself from the terrible urges he felt come on every five minutes. His brother, Canada, leaned against a wall and watched him.<p>

"You've been depending on the medicine too much," the violet eyed Nation finally said. "Now you can hardly control your condition without it."

America twiddled his thumbs. "Yeah...but I was afraid of pulling back on it. With monthly week-long meetings going on, it always seemed like a bad time to try and ween myself off of it."

Canada removed himself from the wall and turned a chair to face the bed America was sitting on. "How about this. After this mess is over, you will miss the next two meetings. I figure two months in the woods should be long enough for your body to get used to not having the medicine to rely upon as much."

America was about to reply, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. He growled softly and began to rise, only to be barred by his twin's arm. "No, Alfred. You stay here. You're not in the best state of mind right now."

The blond Nation huffed and sat back down, his arms crossed tightly as he squashed another homicidal thought. He looked up sharply when he heard a thump, and saw his brother crumpled on the floor. America drew himself up to his full height, and glared down at the attacker, or _attackers_ since there were at least four of them. "I am _not_ in the mood to deal with this shit right now," he said darkly.

The tallest attacker shrugged and actually spoke. "Not our problem, just doing our jobs." He drew a bulky looking weapon and fired it point-blank into the American several times.

The last thing America saw before the tranquilizer took him, was his brother getting dragged away.

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><p><strong>Okay, not exactly the direction I was going to go at first, but the idea sprung upon me in Physics class and wouldn't leave me alone.<strong>

**Thank you so much for reading, could you tell me how I'm doing so far?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	6. Chapter 6

England rattled the bars of his cell again futilely. Across the darkened hallway, France laughed humorlessly. "Well it seems that our kidnappers have done their research this time!"

As much as England hated to admit it, France was right. Close inspection upon the bars dividing him from the rest of the world revealed small runes scratched into them at intervals. He recognized them as runes meant to dissipate magical energies. So blasting his way out was not an option. "Indeed," he replied as he released the cool metal and sat down on the cot that was kindly supplied by the kidnappers. "What do you think it is this time?" he asked after a moment of silence. "Ransom, or experimentation?"

Germany's voice could be heard down the hall. "I heard some guards talking about someone named 'Mr. Jay' wanting a hefty price for 'the freaks in the basement'. So it must be ransom."

"Oh, oh!" Italy voiced from a cell nearby. "Remember the one who wanted the 'Secret to Immortality'?"

"Oh, yeah! That guy was a _total_ nutjob," Prussia laughed. "He even had an evil monologue!"

"Probably watched too many American movies," England commented offhandedly. A few Nations had to mutter in agreement about that.

"Where _is_ America, anyways?" Canada asked quietly. "Has anyone seen him?"

Russia's voice made a few jump as he said, "Down that hall, behind the solid steel door on the right."

"How do you know?" Germany asked.

"I saw him in chains and reinforced arm-braces being dragged that way by five big men. The mouthpiece muffled his shouting, but he was definitely _not_ happy," Russia said cheerfully.

"How 'not happy' was he?" Prussia asked. One would almost describe his tone as worried.

"Oh, I'd say he was almost ready to kill. _You could see it in his eyes_," Russia responded, dropping a clear hint.

One could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed. England was the first to break it as he hit a wall frustratedly. "Bloody Hell, Russia! Why couldn't you have just given the pills back?"

A new Nation entered the conversation, it sounded like Japan. "The ones from yesterday?"

"What do those have to do with anything?" an irritated Norway asked. This is _not_ what he wanted to do tonight!

Russia responded to England's question. He sounded surprised. "I didn't know they were for _that_!"

"Well they were, and he's probably beyond all reasoning by now because you couldn't leave it alone!" England snapped.

"Could someone _please_ just explain what's happening here?!" Denmark interrupted. The hallway broke into loud chatter as multiple Nations demanded answers as well.

England sighed loudly. It sounded like most of the Nations from the meeting were here. The last thing Alfred would want is a room full of Nations to learn of this. His musings were interrupted by a burly guard stomping down the hall with a truncheon, the keys clipped to his belt jingling with each step.

"All of you shut up right _now_!" he shouted. "If I hear another _peep_ from you-"

"Oh, lay off them, Sy," a shorter guard said. "They ain't goin' anywhere, the boss made sure of that. Watch." He walked down the hall and stopped at the reinforced door. He thumped it playfully with his weapon. "Hey, big guy! Remember me? The one who knocked you and your brother out?" The muffled sound of chains rattling was the only response.

* * *

><p>America twitched as he listened to the guard mock him from the outside.<p>

"Hey big guy! Remember me?

The blond Nation growled. He _recognized_ that voice.

"The one that knocked you and your brother out?"

He found himself trying to get to his feet at that remark. But he was stopped as he felt the metal collar around his neck tug at him. Damn these chains. He'd like nothing more than to wring that little pricks neck and-_stop it!_ America terminated that line of thought before it could get too far. He twitched again.

He closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts, blocking out the guards jabs. He couldn't hold it back for long, no. Canada was right about depending on the medicine too much, and now he was paying the price. But...what if he could _use_ it?

He concentrated, focusing on his darkest thoughts. Yes, he was angry. He was angry at a lot of things. But his fellow Nations had nothing to do with the problem at hand. So, they are _not targets_...unless they get in the way, of course. And...the asshole behind the door would make a good punching bag...and he could get information on this...this 'Mr. Jay' person. And with information comes _revenge_. Yeah, he could get with that.

America's now red eyes glinted gleefully. Now it's just a matter of dealing with these chains...

* * *

><p>"I'd imagine that you're all about to see it," Prussia observed quietly as the taunting continued.<p>

The guard faced the bigger one, Sy, with a cocky grin. "See? Absolutely no-" _"BANG!" _The door formed a dent from the blow and the guard jumped away. He glanced at his companion.

Sy raised an eyebrow at the shorter guard. "Backup?"

"Nah, it'll be fine." the guard said.

The metal door shuddered from another impact. "BANG!"

Many Nations who weren't by their cell doors before grasped the bars and leaned forward eagerly. England's ears perked up to another sound, much fainter than the banging.

"Yhaarg!"

_"BANG!" _

"Fucking-!"

_"BANG!" _

"-door!"

_"BANG!" _This was accompanied by terrible wrenching sounds as the door began to twist. The guards jumped away from the door, reaching for their holsters.

"Aargh!"

_"BANG!"_ The door burst out of it's housing. All was silent for a moment. Chains scraped as America stepped through the opening. His arms were fastened behind him in large metal braces and his jaw covered by a mouthpiece. He stepped further into the dismal light, and his eyes were a deep, angry red.

"Oh, no..." Canada said in a hushed tone.

America ran down the hall at the two guards. Sy was the first to pull the trigger, but the bullet barely slowed him down. Before another shot could be fired, he was on the shorter one with a roundhouse kick to the solar plexus, bone cracked and he went down. America turned and viciously head-butted Sy. The guard crumpled and America used his foot to kick the key ring off the belt and towards one of the cells. This one happened to be Russia's.

The northern Nation reached through the bars and took the keys in his gloved fingers. He stood and bent over his cell door's lock. It clicked open and Russia stepped out. He looked at America with a smile. "You're _so_ much more fun like this." He jangled the keys and motioned for the blond Nation to turn around. "I'll unlock you if you promise not to kill me this time."

America rolled his red eyes and turned. Russia pressed another key into the arm-brace, releasing the homicidal Nation's arm. America cracked his knuckles, and looked down sharply as the shorter guard groaned and rolled slightly on the floor. He placed a foot on the man's head and pushed. The guard screamed in pain from the pressure.

"Jay," America gritted through his mask, letting his foot up slightly.

"Don't know," the guard gasped. He screamed again as the American applied more pressure again.

"Jay," America said again, his eyes narrowing.

"Don't-" the guard shuddered and gasped under the blond Nation's foot as it pressed down harder.

While America was busy, Russia took the time to go down the hall and release the others from their cells. England stepped out hesitatingly. He didn't have his wand with him, so he wouldn't be able to do anything like a sleeping spell or a binding spell. So, he was pretty much a sitting duck if America suddenly decided to go after any of them.

"Upstairs! Green door!" the guard finally yelled. America smiled coldly and removed his foot. He regarded the man silently for a moment before delivering a sharp kick to the ribs. The guard doubled over and began dry-heaving.

"America," Germany called.

The disturbed American looked over his shoulder at the group of Nations behind him. His unsettling red eyes rested on Germany.

"Jay," the German Nation said. America huffed, stepped over his victim, and headed towards the stairwell at the end of the hall.

"What was that?" England asked. "He didn't attack you..."

Germany shrugged. "He's out for revenge. We can all relate to that."

"Must we follow him?" a new voice inquired. It was Austria.

Prussia elbowed him playfully in the ribs in an effort to lighten the mood. "You scared, Specs?"

Austria's response was cut off by Canada, who turned to face his comrades. "We need to find an exit, and it's not down here. The moment we get to ground level we can all get back to the hotel, and tell our bosses what happened." He turned to follow America's direction, and the Nations of the world followed.

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><p><strong>Ooookay. This chapter's done. Almost done with the story people, I promise!<strong>

**Thanks for reading, and possibly favoriting/following. Please tell me what you think of it in a review!**

**Random thing: It's finally gone from 110 degrees to a cool 90 degrees. I almost want to break out the winter jackets! ;)**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn't long before Canada lead the group of recently escaped Nations into what was probably the largest room in the building. It was dark, the weak lights barely filtering through the dust. It looked to be an old lumbermill. Stacks of mildewy logs were stacked along each wall and in random spots around the room. The walls alternated between rusty corrugated steel sheets and cracked plaster. The place was littered with the bodies of more of Mr. Jay's guards; it was hard to tell who was dead and who wasn't.

One of the Nations pointed towards the old red double doors that waited at one end. "There's the exit! Let's get out of this hellhole!"

They had to step around and over bodies as they crossed the room. Even as jaded to death as most Nations where, some of these wounds were absolutely _gruesome_...England finally had enough when he caught sight of a man who couldn't be older than twenty pinned against a stack by a nail through his eye, and a gaping hole where his innards used to be. He noticed that Germany had an equally horrified expression on his face. And an equally determined one too. Both stopped before they reached the door.

Sweden grasped the filthy handle and opened the door with a loud and unpleasant screech. It revealed a warehouse district type area, the large industrial building silhouetted by moonlight against a backdrop of a starless sky. Nations breathed sighs of relief as they filed out. Sweden, who was still holding the door open, raised a questioning eyebrow at England, Germany, and Canada, who had remained inside.

"We _have_ to go get him," England explained.

"I can't have him rampaging through my land like that," Germany continued.

Canada shrugged. "He's my brother," he stated simply.

Sweden regarded them for a moment more, before offering the smallest hint of a smile. "G'd L'ck." The heavy door closed with a slam.

"Green door," England stated thoughtfully. "Isn't that what the guard said?" He looked around the ravaged room. "Where would that be?"

Germany pointed up, where there was metal scaffolding and stairs that wrapped around the place near the top. There was an old office area, with a wide yellowed window overlooking the working area below. Soft light behind it showed shadows moving around inside.

"I hope we're not too late," Canada said worriedly. He gestured for the other two to follow him as he dashed up the nearest flight of stairs. Germany was close behind, and England huffed to catch up, his steps echoing off the metal.

They found the door in a small shadowed nook that couldn't easily be seen from below. Or rather _doorway_, seeing as how the actual door had been kicked into splinters off it's hinges. Inside, Alfred brandished a sledgehammer_(where did he find time to get that?)_ and stood over another man with a bleeding mess where his left knee used to be. This brown haired, brown eyed stranger had a crumpled and torn white suit of expensive make. His shoes, which were once of the highest quality Italian leather, were scuffed and stained red by his own bodily fluids. He stared up at America in silent terror. But to his credit, he wasn't bawling, which was quite something in the current situation. He clutched the lower part of his leg, as if hoping to keep it connected to his body.

America was the first to speak. "You haven't screamed for me since I started," he said almost disappointedly. "That's not very considerate, Mr Jay..." he knelt down and lifted the man's chin, as if surveying a product. "Hm...you have nice teeth. That's good. I always keep a tooth."

America lifted the hammer and struck it across the man's face, the handle just coming into contact with his jaw. The man gasped as his head snapped sideways. He spit out a few blood covered teeth.

America picked one up and held it in front of the man's face. "Mine now." He placed it in his pocket and patted it almost reverently. He stood up again, his red eyes dancing as he looked down at the man. "You _will_ scream for me, Mr. Jay. Next I break your shoulder." He hefted the hammer and-

"America!" Canada cried, "Leave him be, you've done enough!"

"Let the police handle this,lad," England insisted, taking a step forward. Germany silently stepped to the side in hopes of cornering the American against the wall.

America twitched, before he grinned widely and hefted the hammer casually onto his shoulder. "He needs to _suffer_, though. And a cell won't do that." He cocked his head before continuing. "I promised myself not to touch you...as long as you didn't get in the way." He twitched twice now. "But I guess..." he trailed off and his expression went completely blank.

"Germany, can you get the hammer from him?" Canada asked in a hushed tone.

"I can try, at least," Germany responded resolutely. He shook his head and looked at the ground, letting out a small string of chuckles.

"Don't tell me you're going mad, too," England said with a raised eyebrow.

Germany looked up again and glanced at the English Nation before him. "No, it's just...I was hoping beyond hope that Prussia was joking when he told me of this."

Canada bit his lip as he watched America worriedly. "He's usually not frozen for this long...I wonder what's going on in there?"

* * *

><p>America was quite literally, arguing with himself. He wanted to kill Jay. Oh, he wanted to kill Jay <em>so bad<em>...but his fellow Nations were there, and they looked utterly _horrified_ at the very idea. It didn't make him feel very...heroic.

But they can't stop him now can they?...

NO! No, this is not right.

It feels _so good_ to let loose and vent his anger. He's really only just getting started.

Venting is punching bags. This is just fundamentally wrong.

Only in their eyes...so he can just get rid of them and be done with the dilemma. He was having _fun_ just a moment ago-

_BAD THOUGHTS NEED TO SHUT UP! GO TO A LITTLE BOX THAT SMELLS LIKE USED GYM SOCKS!_

**_NO! JAY WILL SUFFER AND I WILL REVEL IN THEIR PAIN!_**

It's stronger than it used to be...he needs help. But for now, he needs to warn them away-tell them he can't stop-...

* * *

><p>"He's moving," England said, stopping all conversation.<p>

The American Nation shuddered and sagged a bit, working his jaw. Blue eyes looked up at them desperately. "Can't-can't stop...go _away_!"

Canada stepped forward, hand outstretched. "Fight it! I know you can, you've done it once before-"

America stepped away from his brother. "No, it's getting...s-stronger." He twitched and his eyes flashed red. "Not _done _yet..." He twitched again and his eyes were back to their normal color. "Run, please!"

England advanced carefully, putting a tentative hand on the twitching American's shoulder. "No, I'm not going to leave you like this."

America twitched and tried to back away again, but stopped when he felt his weapon torn from his hand. Germany had gotten behind him during the exchange. germany turned and with a yell threw the thing through the wide bay window. It broke the glass and spun past the narrow catwalk and towards the ground far below.

This was enough for America's eyes to go red again. He snarled and spun towards Germany, hands outstretched to strangle him. England lunged forward and grabbed America's wrist. A jolt of what looked like electricity ran through the American's body. He shuddered and fell to his knees, becoming unresponsive.

"What did you do?"Canada asked, in awe of what he just saw. He crossed the room and put an arm under one of brother's shoulders.

"I picked that little spell up after the first time," England said with a smidgeon of pride. He knelt down next to Jay, checking his vitals. He had passed out from blood loss, but he would live if the paramedics hurried.

Germany helped Canada lift America to his feet by way of the other shoulder. The American's thankfully blue eyes were glazed, like he was awake, but not cohesive enough to speak. Germany and Canada were relieved to find that he could shuffle with some help, and that they wouldn't have to carry him completely.

"He mentioned it was getting stronger," Canada said as they made their way slowly towards the exit. "Upping his medicine dosage wouldn't help...it'd get to the point where he has to have a pill every five minutes!"

"He needs to learn self-control," Germany concluded. "It's the only way."

"I just wish I knew what _caused_ this, though," England said exasperatedly. He was silent for a moment longer, before he came across an idea. "Oh, I know what we can do!"

"What?" Germany asked suspiciously. He did _not_ like that tone England was using.

"We'll just take a little jaunt into his head and find out!" England said almost happily. "We can't _change_ anything in there of course-that would have dire consequences. But we can find out how it happened! Then we can help him easier."

"That," Canada said slowly, "sounds like an awfully dangerous option. I don't want anyone messing with my brother's head. How about we work with the self-control thing Germany was talking about?"

"Fine," England huffed as he pushed the exit door open with a screech. "We'll do it your way for now. But if it doesn't work..."

"We can discuss that then," Germany said with finality. "Let's just get away from here and find a phone."

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter is done. I <em>know<em> that I was supposed to end it by now but...I can't just leave it where it is. Not now.**

**Thank you for reviewing, following, and favoriting! I love you guys for it! Tell me what you think so far?**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	8. Chapter 8

"What are you doing?" America demanded.

Prussia shook the pill bottle in his hands. "I," he paused for dramatic effect. "am helping you. Wether you like it or not." He thumbed in a vague direction over his shoulder. "England told me to hide these where you'll _never_ find them. Take it up with him."

The blond Nation sighed as he watched Prussia saunter away. This is one of the reasons he didn't want so many to know about his...condition. He knew they were trying to help, and he was absolutely _grateful_ that they were doing that instead of locking him up and dismissing him as hopeless. But he was just _waiting_ for something to go wrong with this experiment.

Canada walked in, carrying the pickaxe that had accompanied him on so many excursions..._stop it_. The American shook his head violently as he dispelled that thought. God, out of all the things that triggers _it_, that pickaxe is the second worst culprit. But he could never find it in himself to get rid of it.

"Why was this in your toolshed?" Canada asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Great mining in this area," America responded sarcastically. His brother _knew_ why it was there. Canada settled a light glare on his southern neighbor and set off in the direction of the garage. Oh, yes. That's just a freakin' _genius_ idea. How about we put a long coat on a hook in the mud room while we're at it? Or the boots by the door, even?

He chuckled to himself mirthlessly, and choked off when he noticed that, yes, there was in fact a familiar pair of steel-toed boots by the front door. What the fuck?

America distanced himself from the offending footwear and trudged into the kitchen, straight towards the fridge. Aren't we trying to _avoid_ an incident here? He popped open a soda can and took a deep drink, letting the carbonation tickle his throat. This entire situation is just _too weird_.

He turned and headed through the dining room, and onto the deck outside. It was a nice day out, maybe he could relax a bit...oh, well there goes that plan. There, waiting for him on some of the assorted chairs, were three Nations that he was _severely_ irritated with at the moment.

"Why is _he_ here?" America asked, narrowing his eyes at Russia.

"Oh, you missed me I am sure, comrade," Russia said with one of his 'innocent smiles'.

"He is the one that seemed to communicate with you the easiest when you were...like that," England explained. "I know you don't like it, but that's the way it is."

"Probably only because he's just as batshit..." Prussia mumbled to no one in particular.

Canada joined them on the deck. "That's not the only reason," he said as he walked through the sliding glass doors. He sat down on a bench next to England and leaned forward. America felt like Patient Zero being studied behind one-way glass. "You need to stop relying on the medicine."

"And to do that," Prussia continued, "we need to trigger it."

"So we put some ah...reminders around the house, as you've noticed, I'm sure." England continued.

"And I am great at...how do you say-oh, yes. I am the best at pissing you off," Russia smiled.

"That's not really how it works. It..." America paused, trying to word his explanation right. "They aren't really the same...I...well...when it _happens_ I just get angry. Instantly, and without preamble. Being angry alone doesn't necessarily trigger it."

"And how often _does_ it get triggered, America?" Canada asked carefully.

America struggled to remember. How often does he really feel it? He stopped counting a long time ago..."A-a few times a week, maybe? I'm not sure."

"Used to be a few times a month, I'm guessing?" England asked, reaching into his pocket. "A few times a year before that? And I'm willing to bet it was a rare occurrence back in the early twentieth century." He pulled out something that made America's stomach lurch. He was _really_ hoping they wouldn't find that...

"This needs to stop, Alfred," England said, putting it on the low table between them. A strand of black cord with eyeteeth hanging off of it, varying in age, condition, and species. A necklace, for his trophies.

"Did you put mine on that?" Prussia asked curiously.

America looked down at his feet. "N-no...I didn't kill you...so it didn't count."

"Oh, is that one mine?" Russia inquired innocently, pointing to a human looking tooth.

"Yeah," America said, recalling the day with remarkable clarity.

* * *

><p><em>"Comrade, I'm surprised." Russia said, stepping back from America as he nursed his wounded arm. "Coming to spy on you doesn't usually merit a pickaxe."<em>

_America said nothing. He looked down at the snowy ground under his feet. Russia picked a bad day to 'visit'. America tried to stop himself. Really, he did. But the pained expression on that damn commie's face..._beautiful_. __  
><em>

_"Amerika?" Russia asked, looking up at the silent American curiously. "You seem...different. Are you sick? It's no fun to play with a sick opponent, you know."_

_The blond Nation still said nothing. He looked up and met the Russian's eyes. He saw curiosity, confusion...and was that fear?_

_Russia seemed to canter back a bit as the America took a heavy step forward. The American hoped he would run. It's so much fun when they try to run._

_"I can see you're rather ah...out of it, today," Russia said, his violet eyes taking in America's expression. He gave a childish smile. "But this could be fun...I see a bit of myself in you today, Alfredka."_

_America growled and hefted his weapon. Commie wasn't running. He would come to regret that decision...not that it would've made a difference. He swung the pickaxe at Russia's chest. When Russia leaned back to avoid it, America continued the swing over his head and directed it it low towards the Russian's feet. Russia didn't see this in time and cried out as the tip buried into his booted ankle._

_America smiled as Russia stumbled back and onto the ground. How to kill him? It had to hurt, but it needed to hurt physically _and_ mentally. No amount of physical pain would be enough in this case. He slammed the handle of the pickaxe into the Russian's stomach. Russia gasped painfully and curled over himself. America stepped on the unbroken ankle, and pressed it down into the hard packed snow until he heard a satisfying snap._

_"Ukraine gave you this, right?" Alfred asked curiously. "Little did she know it'd be your end, today." He grasped the scarf and tightened it against Russia's neck. The violet eyed Nation tried to speak, but didn't have enough air to do so. America was sure to draw it out as long as possible until the end. _

_When Russia stopped breathing, America reached into his open mouth and wrenched an eyetooth free. He studied it like a conoisseur of wine would an aged bottle. Nice and strong. White like Siberia in the winter. This would be a fine addition to his collection. He stood up and observed the grey sky as it started to snow. He touched a hand delicately to his neck, around which his beloved necklace hung. A fine addition indeed._

* * *

><p>America was mortified to hear a note of pride creeping into his own voice. "I don't recall having a better specimen to work with..." he cut himself off and scattered those thoughts with a visible effort.<p>

"Alfred," England said quietly. "Are you alright?"

"No," America responded tiredly. "I'm not alright."

* * *

><p>America was fearful to find that they would be <em>staying<em> until this was over. He found he would rather be doing other things. Like playing video games, watching TV, working on his car, doing paperwork, clearing trees from his property even. But no, his life was to be taken over by this weird intervention-rehab thing.

Canada gave him sheets of math problems to do, to keep his mind busy. They weren't cute little 1+1=2 things either. They started at little things like molar equations and titration, then they advanced into complex algorithms and irrational equations later. Where did Canada find time to write these up, anyways?

Prussia's job was to remind him of his condition at every little opportunity. In fact, it was Prussia's idea to take the damn necklace and attach it to the fridge with a magnet. So America would come face to face with his worst trigger whenever he wanted a snack. America was sure he would stay away from the kitchen for a while.

England was studying America. Every little action, every spoken word, every facial expression, was recorded by England in a red spiral-bound notebook. The American dreaded the idea of his former caretaker breathing down his neck _again_ two hundred years later.

Russia...was just being Russia. Talking, breathing, taking up space...and that annoyed America to absolutely no end.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter! Written on the same day! Yaaaaaay! <strong>

**Thanks for reading, favoriting, following, reviewing, existing...all of that. It's really awesome.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	9. Chapter 9

**Day 1**

England was sure to be up bright and early. Today, he would _prove_ that he's a good cook by making breakfast. He'd start with the scones, then he'd make tea. He'd seen a lone carton of Earl Grey in the spice cabinet. Strong for some tastes, but milk and sugar would fix that right up.

He dressed himself and strode into the kitchen. To his dismay, Canada was already there, making pancakes. Now he isn't opposed to Canada's pancakes. No one could be, for Canada has a superpower when it comes to pancakes. But this meant he probably wouldn't be allowed near the stove.

The Canadian expertly flipped a pancake off the pan and onto a steadily growing stack. He looked back to see England standing in the doorway. "Come make yourself a plate," Canada said with a soft smile. "Al's going to be up any minute now, then you've got _no_ chance with the syrup between him and myself."

England nodded and did as the violet eyed Nation suggested. He took a few and took his plate to the table, where the maple syrup waited. He poured a measure onto his breakfast and began to eat.

"Uuuuuuugh," a voice groaned. England looked up from his plate to see America with a bed head and disheveled pajamas shuffle into the kitchen. He made a beeline to the coffee pot on the counter and made himself a cup. He served himself pancakes and joined England at the table.

"Good morning. How are you?" England asked as he took another bite of his pancakes.

America drank his coffee almost sullenly. England was worried. "America?"

"'m fine." America mumbled into his cup.

"Do you need more coffee?" Canada called from the kitchen.

The American tore his gave from his cup momentarily, his eyes lighted up slightly at the prospect. "Yeah," he responded.

Prussia strode into the kitchen, snatched up a plate from the table, served himself pancakes, and joined them at the table. "Don't worry, he's always like this before he gets coffee in the morning."

"Oh, good," England responded, releasing the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I'm not a flippin' time bomb, Iggy," America said exasperatedly. He animated more with each sip of his drink.

Prussia smiled deviously and leaned forward. Time to get to work for him, apparently. "Aren't you? Don't you feel it in the morning sometimes? When your mind's foggy and your guard's down?"

"Could we do this later?" America pleaded. "Can I just eat my breakfast in peace, please?"

"It's 'could', not 'can'. Speak properly or don't speak at all," England scolded on reflex.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" America muttered to himself. Before England could retort, Russia walked into the kitchen.

_"Доброе утро," _Russia said happily. He skipped on breakfast and sat at on chair closest to America and put his face unusually close. The blond Nation said nothing, but stabbed his breakfast a bit more forcefully than necessary. Russia's smile grew wider as time passed silently. The tension was so thick that one could cut it with a butter knife.

About three more minutes passed before America leaned away from the Russian, irritation clear on his face. "Dude, bubble space. You go to your side of the table, and I'll stay in mine."

"But isn't it fun to spend some..." he leaned in closer and put a hand on America's shoulder. "..._quality time?_"

America suddenly pushed his chair back from the table, gathering his plate and cup as he did so. He stood up and turned on his heel, walking into the kitchen and stopping at the sink. He turned on the water and began to wash his dishes, his face set into a frown.

England caught a smirk from the Prussia nearby. He shot the albino a questioning look.

"I'm just thinking about how easy it is to rile him up, when you know what buttons to press," Prussia explained. "He's always had a thing for personal space, as I'm sure you've noticed."

In fact, England _had_ noticed. Even as a colony America had always preferred to have at least four feet of space from everyone. The idea had crossed into politics with the Monroe Doctrine and his early isolationism policy.

"First, I interrupt his meal with a reminder," Prussia continued. "This puts it in the back of his mind, at least. Then you corrected his grammar. Russia came in and intruded upon his personal space." He kicked his feet up on the table. "The fact that he doesn't _like_ the Russian makes it even better!" he chortled.

* * *

><p>Canada sighed as he watched his brother go. He was sure Prussia and Russia would have <em>no<em> issue inducing an incident for America. He finished cleaning up his station and walked into the living room. He found England sitting on the couch, scribbling into his red notebook, probably about this morning. Canada sat down on the recliner nearby, waiting for England to finish.

England finally looked up from his notebook to see Canada. "Oh, sorry lad, I didn't see you there." He adjusted his sweater vest idly. "Have you seen America? He's disappeared on me..."

"Have you checked his room?" Canada asked. He was just stalling. He knew where America was, he just wasn't sure if he should tell England right now.

"Yes, and he's not there. I checked all the bathrooms too, before you ask." He stopped and studied the Canadian closely. After a moment he said, "You know where he is, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?" Canada asked innocently.

"You know him better than anybody," England said in an accusatory tone. "You're just not telling me for some reason."

"Well, you've figured me out," Canada said with an exaggerated sigh. He mimed swooning dramatically. "Oh, what_ever_ shall I do?"

"You and your brother have some frightening parallels," England observed. "Why won't you tell me where he is?"

"I don't think it's wise to be trying to induce an attack out of him," Canada answered. "I honestly think we should be _supporting_ him when it _does_ happens instead of trying to _fix_ him by _making_ it happen."

"We're helping him by doing what America couldn't do on his own. We're teaching him to be able to control himself no matter what the condition." England leaned forward intently. "But we can't _do_ that if I don't know where he _went_."

Canada frowned at the English Nation. "You have a point...just be careful. We don't want to drive him over the edge." He took a deep breath and continued. "He's out in the woods behind the house."

"Why?" England asked, gathering himself up to go.

"He leaves when he's stressed. Even when we were kids he'd do that." Canada responded.

England headed towards the back. "That git will cooperate even if I have to fasten an electric collar to his neck!" he could be heard to say on his way out.

Canada sighed again and rubbed his wrist idly, thinking.

* * *

><p>Prussia sat on the deck, listening to the birds chirping. It's so peaceful here. So different from the hubbub of New York City or Los Angeles...his head snapped forward as he heard footsteps on the wooden deck. England beckoned to Prussia. "Come on, I know where America went."<p>

Prussia lurched to his feet casually and followed England into the woods. They walked for about ten minutes before they started to hear...singing?

Yes, America was up ahead, singing to himself as he walked.

_"One dark night when we were all in bed,_

_Mrs. O'Leary left her lantern in the shed._

_Well, the cow kicked it over, and this is what they said: 'There'll be a hot time in the old town tonight!'"_

He repeated this same verse a few times, getting quieter each time. It came to the point where he was nearly humming it.

Prussia decided it would be a perfect time to accidentally snap a twig with his boot. America perked up, listening. He glanced back, and saw the two Nations following him. Rather than running, he turned around to face them fully. "_Please_ leave me alone?"

"We can't do that," England stated. "For everyone's safety, you _need_ to be able to control yourself."

"If you're doing this bad on Day One, when I'm _just_ getting started, how do you think you'll do at a World Meeting with China pestering you about debt, or Cuba being a general nuisance?" Prussia scolded, showing a level of seriousness rarely seen. "You _need to work with us_, or we might as well lock you up and throw away the key."

America looked down at his feet, saying nothing. Seeing him like this reminded Prussia a lot of when he trained him during the Revolutionary War. Ah, where did the time go?

England flipped open his notebook to a new page, writing something inside and snapping it shut again. "We need to get back to the house," he said sensibly. "Canada will be wondering where we got off to, and I don't even want to _know_ what Russia's been doing."

Prussia resisted the urge to rub his hands together evilly and laugh. He had _plans_ for America.

* * *

><p>Russia was sure to be next to the refrigerator when the trio had returned. He smiled happily as they entered through the sliding glass doors. "Hello again, <em>Alfredka<em>," he said, putting a special emphasis on the American's name.

"I told you not to call me that," America said almost tiredly. Russia noticed blue eyes flickering briefly to the gruesome necklace still hanging on the fridge. "But you never listen so why do I even bother?"

"A lot of things you do are stupid," Russia returned idly. "It's just who you are. _Most_ of the time, I mean."

America stiffened slightly, and Russia's grin grew wider. This was almost _too_ easy.

The blue eyed Nation turned on his heel and made for the bathroom. Russia laughed as the door slammed shut.

* * *

><p>America ran the tap in the small bathroom sink. He put his hands under the running water and splashed himself with it. It's only been a freakin' <em>day<em>. Under normal circumstances, he'd be fine right now. But now with England stalking him, and Prussia pestering, and Russia..._Russia-ing_...

It's enough to drive one mad.

the blond Nation splashed himself with water again. He looked up and faced the mirror hanging on the wall squarely, studying his reflection.

Blue...that's good. But for how long? How long before he...let go? And tasted true freedom...and felt adrenaline singing through his being as he..._NO! _

America used his fingers to widen one eyelid. Did he just see red in there? Or was it his imagination? He pressed both hands on the cool tiled counter.

No, he can do this. He just needs to...do _better_ damn it! Heroes don't let their emotions get the better of them.

Heroes don't kill people for their beautiful, pearly white eyeteeth either..._SHUT UP!_

America stared at himself defiantly. He would win this.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Day 2<strong>

England studied the scene, writing everything down almost unconsciously. America was trying to read a book in his study. Prussia was sure to switch it out with a copy of 'What the Night Knows' by Dean Koontz. America somehow hadn't noticed, and was now reading it with an unidentifiable expression on his face. Most of the time, he was suitably horrified and disturbed. But there was one or two flashes of...something. He looked keenly attracted at times. Stimulated, even. England hoped that it wasn't the antagonist he was rooting for.

America finished the book remarkably fast, three hours of reading at the most. He put the book on a low table next to his chair and feel deep into thought, his arms crossed and his chin sunk low into his chest.

England watched attentively, careful not to miss a thing. America's half closed eyes never wavered. Like he was seeing, but not seeing at the same time.

Prussia, with his usual impeccable timing, decided that it would be a good moment to enter the small study. He opened the door with a bang, sauntered in and loudly dragged a chair across the carpet to face the studious American. He was silent as he watched America curiously. Finally, he leaned forward and snapped his fingers in the blond Nation's face.

America's head snapped up in surprise. He noticed the smiling Prussian, an odd expression clouding his visage for the briefest of moments. His eyes flickered towards the exit and offered a hesitant smile. "Sorry dude, didn't see you there. Now if you'll excuse me..."

The albino pushed him back into his seat. He didn't even blink at the American's confused expression. America tried to get out of the chair again, but Prussia shoved him back into the seat again. Irritation flashed across the blond's features. His next attempt was aborted when Prussia finally spoke.

_"Imagination was so powerful that you had to be careful because you could imagine things into existence that you might regret."_

America crashed back into his seat again. He looked up at the silver-haired Nation with a carefully neutral expression.

"How you feeling?" Prussia asked. "Annoyed, I'm sure. Irritated, confused..." he lowered his voice as he finished. "...angry."

Both the Nation and the ex-Nation stared at each other silently for a full five minutes.

"I told you that anger isn't really a trigger," America finally stated. "So this doesn't work."

"Are you so sure?" Prussia pressed. "It seems to me that you've gotten _quite_ a bit more irritable since I hid your pills. How long before you explode?"

The blond Nation narrowed his eyes, England caught a brief, subtle darkening in their color. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said in a clipped tone. "Excuse me." He rose from his chair, pushing the Prussian out of the way as he left.

Prussia stumbled a bit. He caught himself with a grin and glanced at England. "You catch all that?"

England reviewed his notes and nodded. He had indeed, written everything down without fully realizing it. "Did you notice his eyes change while you were talking? I know for a fact that it wasn't just a trick of the light."

Prussia put a hand to his chin and nodded thoughtfully. "That I did. Do you think he can stop himself when it gets right down to it?"

England rose from his chair. "We can only hope so. I understand Russia's in the next room."

* * *

><p>Russia looked up as America walked in. He noticed the American was rather agitated. The tall Nation smirked as America crossed the room directly in front of him. "And where are you going?" he asked.<p>

The blond Nation stopped in his tracks. He looked at the Russian with something akin to disdain. "None of your business. I see you're enjoying the puzzle I was working on."

Russia looked down at the low coffee table, surveying the half-complete pastoral scene for what seemed like the millionth time. "Yes, it should be complete soon. I'm not sure why you haven't finished it yet. Such an easy puzzle...well, maybe not easy for an ignorant pig like yourself."

"Not even going to grace that with an answer," America snapped. He turned his back on the Russian and continued on his way.

Russia smiled again as he left. It was only a matter of time now.

* * *

><p>Canada walked into the dining room to see America hunched over the table. He had apparently decided that those math problems weren't such a ridiculous idea after all.<p>

The violet eyed Nation sat down next to his southern neighbor, watching. His face was set into a frown of concentration, and his eyebrows were furrowed downward as he solved the equations. The sunlight filtering through the windows concealed his eyes behind the glare of his glasses.

Canada saw three sheets had been completed already and tossed to the side. "How long have you been here?"

America looked up towards a clock ticking away the minutes. "Ehhh, ten minutes," he answered, returning to scribbling furiously on the page.

The Canadian sat for a while longer before saying, "You can talk to me, I don't have any ulterior motive behind it."

There was a pause in the American's scribbling. He regarded Canada for a moment, and looked down at his work. He noticed this sheet was done too. "Mattie...What if I can't get better? What if I keep feeling it more and more and it becomes my default personality?"

Canada leaned back slightly in surprise. "Then...I don't know, Al. They'd probably just...lock you up."

America looked down at the table, studying the wood grain. "That's...that's what I'm most afraid of. I don't want to be locked up for the next couple of centuries. And I don't _like_ being that guy. But these-these _thoughts_ sneak up on me and the next thing I know I'm..."

Canada cut him off by enveloping him in a hug. America seemed surprised at the sudden contact, but returned it.

"Don't worry. We'll get through this." He pulled out of the hug and offered a small smile. "Then Russia can move out, eh?"

America laughed.

* * *

><p>"Hey, dudes. Anyone seen what happened to my pajamas?"<p>

England looked up to see America, with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. The English Nation shook his head. "No, did you misplace them?"

America frowned, rearranging the toothbrush. "Naw...I left 'em on my bed and they disappeared when I came outta the bathroom to grab them."

Prussia sauntered in, a smirk on his face that showed he had _something_ in the works. England shuddered as he remembered being the subject of such a smirk before.

"America!" Prussia said in faux surprise. "Why aren't you in bed yet? You're supposed to get a full night's rest while we're here, and it's already eleven o'clock! At least dress yourself for bed."

"My bed clothes are missing," America responded confusedly. "I don't know-" he stopped and his eyes narrowed. "Wait. What are you planning?"

"I don't know _what_ you're talking about," Prussia said oh-so-innocently. "I don't want to get in the way of your _sleep_, oh no-not me."

America rolled his eyes and said, "Whatevs, dude. I'll just sleep in my boxers." He turned towards the stairs.

Prussia stopped the blue-eyed Nation in his tracks by saying, "Good luck finding your mattress."

"Oh, come _on_ man!" America turned back to face Prussia fully. "Where did you find time to hide my mattress?"

The Prussian smiled and pretended to check his nails for dirt. "Oh, when you were brushing your teeth. You were in there for at least fifteen minutes." He met the American's eyes intently. "I heard you in there too. What were you arguing with yourself about?"

America pinched his nose to ward off a coming headache. "Oh, my _God_, you don't need to assume everything's about my..." He sighed and released his nose, settling his gaze on the Prussian. "I _always_ argue with myself when the Dodgers and the Giants play each other. It's like, the biggest baseball grudge-match ever!"

Prussia leaned back, obviously not expecting this. "...Baseball? You argue with yourself over baseball?"

"Yeah," the American answered. "Same goes for basketball, and football-_american_ football, mind you. Soccer er...not as much. With hockey I'm usually just arguing with Canada-oh, hey bro! We were just talking about you."

His brother was there, leaning on the doorway with a bemused expression. "Prussia hid your mattress?"

"Uh-huh," America responded, shooting the albino a dirty look. "Guess I'm on the couch. At least until I find it." He made a sweeping gesture towards the stairs. "Which means everyone clears out."

"Not until after I watch my movie," Prussia said with a maddening grin. He pulled out a glossed DVD case seemingly from nowhere. "Have you ever seen this one?"

The blue-eyed Nation peered at the title closely. "'My Bloody Valentine'? No, I don't think I have."

"Oh, no! I've seen that one." England stood up and spanned the short space between himself and Prussia. He plucked the movie out of the ex-Nation's hands. "We are _not_ watching it," he said sternly.

"Don't be such a grumpy buzz-kill," Prussia said. "It's just a _movie_."

"Like how this morning it was _just a book_?" England said so that only the albino could hear.

Prussia's smile grew wider. "Something like that," he answered at a similar volume.

"What's so bad about it?" America asked curiously.

Canada watched with an expression of dread on his face as Prussia put the silvery disc in the DVD player. "It's a slasher film that-"

"Shh!" Prussia said, putting a finger to his lips. "No spoilers!"

England huffed and crossed his arms. "For the record, I find this incredibly stupid, and am only watching so that I can record the proceedings."

"Whatever," Prussia said nonchalantly. He turned and crashed on the couch. "Get the lights, Birdie?"

Canada hesitated for a split second before doing as the albino asked and joining him on the couch. America, his sleeping situation forgotten, sat down in his favorite recliner and watched.

* * *

><p>"America," England said worriedly, waving a hand in front of his face.<p>

The blond Nation reacted, grabbing the English Nation's hand before actually thinking about it. England stood absolutely still, waiting for his hand to be released. America was silent for a while more, staring at the now blank screen before snapping out of his odd trance and relinquishing England's appendage.

"S-sorry, dude," America tried to laugh. He still seemed preoccupied, though.

"Did you like the movie, Amerika?" an new voice asked. Canada jumped in his seat and Prussia whipped his head around to glare at Russia briefly before turning back and studying America.

The blond Nation's expression was concealed by the darkness in the room. His figure's vague outline showed him to be almost frozen in the position he started.

"Good job, Prussia," England finally said, stepping away from America and facing the albino. "You broke him."

Prussia's response was cut off by America's slow voice. "No...I'm fine. But I need to go to bed now so..."

"Of course," Canada said before anyone else could argue. "See you in the morning." He stood up and ushered the other Nations through the kitchen and out onto the porch.

England reared on Prussia angrily. "What were you _thinking_ when you forced him to watch that?" He put up a warning hand. "I don't tell me you didn't. Why else would you bother going to such an extent to keep him awake?"

Prussia crossed his arms and regarded the English Nation through narrowed eyes. "I was doing my job._ Reminding_ him. _Pushing_ him._ Conditioning_ him."

"Oh, yes. And he's just_ blossoming_ under your instruction!" England hissed, his breath condensing in the chilly night air. He waved his red notebook in the albino's face. "You should read this. He's _so_ close to snapping after only two days! It's probably hard enough with _him_," England pointed an accusing finger at Russia, "living in his house!"

The tall Nation had an innocent and slightly confused expression. "But...that's what we are doing, _da_? Making it so that Amerika learns to control himself?"

"We're not _letting_ him control himself," Canada said quietly. "_Anyone_ would have a hard time under the circumstances." He sighed as he looked out into the eerily silent woods. "Let's just ease up on him a bit. I want to avoid an..._incident_ with his rehabilitation."

* * *

><p>America dreamt that night. As a Nation, he's used to nightmares. They are frequent and reoccurring. But he hasn't had <em>this<em> one in a long time.

He woke up to find himself standing in the middle of a familiar hotel lobby. The place looked normal enough...except for the blood, of course.

It coated everything. The floral print walls, the aged chairs, the wooden coffee table, the front desk... it was everywhere. He saw a red door. _The_ red door.

America knew what was behind that door. He thrashed and screamed, trying to avoid the inevitable.

_'Don't open it! Don't go in!'_

But he wasn't the one in control now, was he?

His dream-self looked around the room casually, apparently not noticing the blood. "Hello? Anyone in here?"

America mentally clawed at himself, trying to stop himself. But it was no use. He watched helplessly as the door was opened with a creak, and the image dissolved into a long, dark hallway, the only light coming from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling.

There was someone already walking down towards the door at the end of the hall. A brunette woman-probably a foreigner-with brown hair and pale skin. Her pastel dress made soft swishing sounds to accompany the sound of each high-heeled step she took.

_Click..._

_Click..._

_Click..._

_BAM!_

With a sudden scream the floor fell away beneath her, and she plunged into the inky blackness below. She was no more.

His dream-self ran towards the empty space in the floor, only to see it solid again. He stomped on it experimentally with his riding boot. It was solid.

_'Go now! Run while you can-just go!'_

His dream-self looked around, wondering if anyone else had seen what he just saw. But he was the only one there. He needed get some help...but the lobby was deserted. Maybe he could find the owner or another guest in the next room?...

_'No, no, no! Please not again!'_

But of course his dream-self was completely ignorant to his own cries. He made it down the hallway in what seemed like no time at all. This door was black, with 'Rm. 5' painted on it in fancy gold font. He grasped the handle, and opened the door.

He could see a figure, hunched over a table in a tiny room. He saw the gleam of a knife and a splash of liquid as it made furious contact with something laying on the table. A drop of this liquid splashed onto America's boot. Red, shiny, sticky...blood.

America's dream-self jumped forward at this revelation, grabbing the figure roughly by the shoulder and turning him around. "H-hey! What are you-"

_'No-!'_

Horrified blue eyes met cold, angry ones. The mustached man smiled, but it wasn't really a smile. Then things..._changed_.

Everything went blurry, America released the shoulder and staggered back, clapping his hands over his ears. Voices, hundreds of them, angry ones, gleeful ones, _dark_ ones.

The world spiraled, the Nation fell to one knee, eyes screwed tightly shut. They were getting _louder_ they...

_"SHUT UP!"_

Someone, he didn't know who, someone was holding his wrists. America thrashed. "No, no, no, _NO!_" He tried to aim a kick at this faceless attacker, but his legs were restrained as well.

"Alfred!" Canada yelled.

America opened his eyes and looked around. He was on his couch, in his house. Not a hotel...not _the_ hotel.

"Lad," England said gently. He relinquished his hold on America's ankles and sat down on the edge of the couch. "Do you...do you want to talk about-"

"No," America said with a violent shake of his head. "No it's just...it's nothing."

"Not nothing, comrade," Russia said. The violet eyed Nation studied him for a moment more, and seemed to come to a conclusion. "I must go. Belarus will start looking if I do not return home. I did not bring anything with me, so packing is not an issue." He stopped by the front door. "I was not joking when I said that I see a bit of myself in you sometimes, _Alfredka_." With that parting shot, he was gone. A car could be heard to start outside, and then crunching as it travelled away from the house, and towards the main road.

"Wow, anyone else think that was a _really_ split second decision on his part?" Prussia finally asked.

* * *

><p><strong>Well...Russia left. Anyone else wondering how he went two days without luggage? ;)<strong>

** Thanks for the reviews and everything, guys! They're super-awesomely-epically-cool.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	10. Chapter 10

**Day 3**

Canada watched his brother from across the dining room table that morning. America looked tired to say the least. He hadn't been able to go back to sleep since last night. Now he picked at his eggs drowsily, not even touching his coffee. England was there, of course. He had all but forgotten about his notebook. Prussia had yet to emerge from his room.

"So...Russia left," America said, stating the obvious.

"Yes, indeed," England responded. He looked rather uncomfortable himself.

Breakfast continued along these lines for several more minutes. Someone would try to start a conversation, and it would die out within the first or second response. England fell to studying the table and America never looked up from his barely eaten breakfast. Canada sighed inwardly and looked out side wistfully. It really was a beautiful day. The leaves were fully turned and had just started falling by now. Wind rustled through the trees, making it so that the earth itself seemed to exhale on occasion. Maybe a day out in the woods would be good for everyone...

"The awesome Prussia has arrived!"

...or not.

England looked up from the table, and regarded the albino with a look akin to disdain. Apparently, he has not forgiven the movie incident.

Prussia ignored this and sat down. He quieted drastically upon seeing America. His smirk settled into a serious expression similar to one his brother, Germany would give. "We need to talk about last night."

Canada couldn't help but snort. What an understatement!

"Don't wanna talk about it," America said moodily. He stabbed into his breakfast and took a slow bite, eating but not tasting.

"Too bad," Prussia said. If Canada didn't know better, he'd call that tone almost pitiless. "What did you see?"

"I don't remember," America responded automatically.

"I call bullshit," Prussia stated, not buying it.

The blue-eyed Nation looked around for help. England watched impassively. Canada wasn't going to get in the way. He was on his own. "A nightmare," America said evasively.

"Uh-huh," Prussia said, waiting.

"It..." America stopped and sighed. "Look, I've had it before. Nations have nightmares; it comes with the territory. You all know this as well as I do, so why can't you just leave me alone about it?"

"You can't _face_ this on your own," England said firmly. "Otherwise we wouldn't _be_ here."

"Then go!" America said exasperatedly, putting both of his hands flat against the table. "You don't have to be here-_none_ of you do! Just leave, like Russia did. It'd save you all a whole lot of time and headaches."

Canada shook his head. Doesn't he realize?...No, of course not. He wouldn't. "Alfred," the violet-eyed Nation said quietly to the ensuing silence. "Do you realize what it would mean politically if _America _of all the Nations was mentally unstable? Having to tiptoe around Russia is bad enough!"

America fell silent, looking down. He evidently hadn't thought of that. The four Nations didn't speak for a full five minutes as that sunk in. It would be...really, _really_ bad.

Prussia was the first to break the silence. "You need to get through this, America. For everyone's sakes."

"I know Gil..." America said.

"We're here to help you," England reminded him. "So you need to _tell_ us." He paused for a moment as he adjusted himself in his seat to lean forward. "What happened in the dream?"

And America told them. He told them everything. By the end of it, England had a thoughtful look on his face. "We have another piece of the puzzle, then," he said distantly. "But we need more data..." He seemed to think a while more, before glancing at Canada. "How did you find out again? A hunting trip gone wrong, you said?"

Canada suppressed a shudder at awful encounter. It wasn't something he'd soon forget.

* * *

><p><em>They trudged through the woods of Minnesota. the cold nipped at their noses and their condensed breath barely showed in the early morning light. They had travelled mostly in silence, for fear of scaring the game away.<em>

_Canada stopped, hearing a rustle up ahead. He gestured with his crossbow to the source, and America approached it carefully with his gun. _

_The violet-eyed Nation slowly swept his loaded weapon around, making sure there were no other predators skulking about. He watched as America took another quiet step, but a dried leaf crunched under his boot. Up ahead there was a sudden commotion among the tall grass. A big white-tailed deer flew out of it's hiding place and began to run off._

_Matthew laughed silently at the rookie mistake his brother had just made. But wait, is he-Oh, no he _is_!_

_"Al!" Matthew whispered furiously as his brother _put his gun down_ and drew the gleaming hunting knife from it's sheath on his belt. _The northernmost Nation caught a maniacal grin on his brother's face before he shot off, swiftly and silently, like a sniper's bullet. __

__America was chasing the game. With a knife. Again.__

__Matthew groaned inwardly and began to follow the faint trail his brother had left at a run, scooping up the discarded weapon on his way. He __always__ did this when the game made a run for it. How he even tracked his target, Matthew would never know.__

_He broke into a clearing just in time to see America get in front of the deer and meet it head on with his blade in it's chest before the poor thing could turn around. Canada frowned as America stood over it's body with a gleeful expression on his face._

_"Why do you even bring a gun anymore?" Canada asked, approaching the dead deer and studying it's wound. "You've probably brought more down this way than you have with a firearm."_

_America cleaned off his knife with a rag and sheathed it again. "You're exaggerating," he said calmly._

_"No, I'm not," Canada insisted. "Last time it was a mountain lion. Before that it was a bear. A freakin' grizzly bear! And who _knows_ how many deer you've gotten."_

_"That particular mountain lion was a bounty. It was killing hikers, so I went in and...well, killed it," He knelt down and pulled another knife, a skinning knife, from his boot. "And the bear was charging us. The knife crossed my mind before my sidearm did." He began the messy chore of field dressing the deer._

_"And this?" Canada asked, his arms crossed. _

_"Ah..." America stopped for a moment, frowning at the carcass. "I don't really know. It started running and I just...I _had_ to chase it."_

_The violet-eyed Nation looked up at the sky. It was getting kinda dark..."We should head back to the cabin. We can continue tomorrow."_

_America nodded and began to pack away the deer in his game bag. He had cut it into little pieces to make it easier. Canada fell to taking pieces as well to help get it back faster._

_Back at the cabin, America cleaned and skinned his kill. Canada sat on a fallen log to the side, watching the easy, practiced motions his brother made with the large, serrated knife._

_When did America start preferring knives over guns? He was hardly seen by anyone between 1814 and 1910...so it could've been any number of things, really._

_"Bro, why you starin' at me like that?" America asked curiously, twisting his head to look at the Canadian._

_Canada shrugged. "Oh, just...watching."_

_"Oookay, then," America said. He stood up and looked at down at himself. "Wow, this stuff gets everywhere!" he laughed, indicating the blood splatters._

_Canada stood up as well. "I'll cook up some dinner while you go clean up in that creek we saw, alright?" _

_"M'kay," America answered, already doing so._

_The sun was nearly set when America burst into the small cabin. Canada looked up, taking in his brother's appearance. His hair was damp, and he was without his shirt, despite the chilly weather. He still wore his bloodied trousers from earlier, and he had a frantic expression on his face. "Canada! Did you see my bag anywhere?"_

_Canada silently pointed to the foot of America's bed, wondering what could be so urgent. America stepped inside and started to rummage through it. "No...in here maybe?..." He cursed and threw it to the floor with a heavy _THUMP!

_Canada half rose from his bed. "Are you...are you alright?"_

_America jumped slightly as he remembered Canada's presence._ _"Fine, I just..." He looked around. "I've gotta go...I'll be back um...in the morning. Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully. I'll be back though. So stay right_ _here. _Right _here._ _Bolt the door and _don't_ open it. Seriously."_

_Canada blinked at the odd request. "O-okay but-"_

_The door slammed shut and America was gone. Canada sat there a moment, dumbfounded and confused. What was that all about? America looked...scared. Really scared. He moved his foot and something rattled. He looked down to see a translucent orange pill bottle, about halfway full of small blue pills. It must have fallen out of America's bag earlier that day...this must be what he was searching for. But what are they for?_

_He picked it up and shook it as if doing so would divine an answer for him. Nations usually didn't get sick unless most of their native population was sick. Last Canada checked, America's people were healthy. So what is it?_

_He glanced at the closed wooden door. America told him to stay put...but what if he's in trouble? Canada could hardly be expected to sit around and wait for something to happen in that case. He stood up and shrugged on his jacket. He grabbed his crossbow last-minute, just in case. He rushed outside and began to track his brother, something he's found need to do all too often. He ran, following the signs his brother had left. A broken twig here, a thrashed shrub there, an occasional boot print._

_Canada began to worry as he got farther from the cabin. America moved fast when he wanted to. What if Canada was too late for...whatever the hell was happening? He tried his best to stop worrying. America still had his knife, right? Canada reassured himself that his brother could settle his own if it came to that._

_He slowed down as he saw something on the path up ahead in the dim moonlight that peeked through the trees. Canada knelt down and studied it closely. The coppery sent of blood pervaded his nose as he got his face closer to it. A dead wolf, two of them in fact. The nearest creature's torso was shredded up, it's flesh in ribbons. The other ones jaw was broken to the point of it's skull being almost ripped apart completely from it completely. _

_The violet-eyed Nation stood up and squeezed his eyes shut briefly to get that gruesome image out of his head. _Good__ Lord__, what could do this? He kept moving, his trigger finger twitching occasionally against the side of his crossbow. America's around here somewhere, he knew. The trail was getting fresher by the minute. But the __thing__ that mutilated those wolves is out there too.__

__He glimpsed a human-looking shadow walking up ahead.__

__"America!"__

__The figure turned, revealing the familiar cowlick that said yes, that was America. His knife gleamed faintly in the moonlight, as did his glasses. Canada stopped a good ten feet away, panting slightly. "America, there's something out here. I don't know what, but it-it __killed__ some wolves back there and..." He stopped, studying his brother closely. Something was...off somehow. He couldn't give an exact reason as to __why__ he suddenly felt so uneasy. But the way America moved, almost feral. The way he carried himself...something was really, __really__ wrong here.__

__Canada peered through his lenses, trying to see an expression, a sign of recognition, or __anything_. But America showed none of these. He spasmed, and took a step forward. The northernmost Nation took an instinctive step back in response. "America? It's me-" he was cut off by a distinctive whizzing sound going inches past his ear. he looked back and saw America's hunting knife sticking out of the tree. Canada looked at his brother, who had stopped in his tracks. He was twitching now, like someone who had put an energy drink in their adrenaline flavored coffee. ___  
><em>_

_Silvery light fell on his disturbed brother's face. It was covered in fresh blood splatters. There was no expression on it though. He saw nothing through his..._bloodred_ eyes._

_Canada yelped and stumbled back briefly. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew this was bad. Something's wrong with his brother. Seriously wrong._

_America stopped twitching, and his movements became fluid again. He smirked, and Canada found himself pinned under his brother's knee, his air constricted as his brother choked him and he began to see spots. Canada looked up at America's face, and suddenly knew how the deer had felt earlier. It was the _same damn grin_ on his face. The grin of a hunter who had caught his prey._

_Canada wriggled and fought. He was _not_ going to be prey today! His crossbow had been knocked away, but he's always been resourceful. Canada worked his fingers under the American's hands and pried the strong grip away from his neck. He simultaneously brought his foot up to America's stomach and kicked him off. He rolled out of the way and lurched to his feet. Before America could completely recover, Canada turned the tables by charging him and backing him up into a tree. _

_He grasped his brother's shoulders and shook them violently. "Wake up, Alfred!" Canada backhanded him. "Get a hold of yourself!"_

_America blinked and his eyes were blue again. He took a deep breath and looked at his twin desperately. "Help...pills...hurry!"_

_It was Canada's turn to blink. "Pills? oh-_oh!_ Yes, pills, I have them." He released the American and began to pat his pockets, searching for them._

_America shuddered and collapsed back against the rough bark of the tree. "I-I Can't..." His eyes flashed red as Canada found the bottle and struggled with the cap._

_"Just a second," Canada said, concealing the fear in his own voice and settling into the role of older brother. "You'll be fine, I promise."_

_"Not f-fine!" America gritted out, putting his hands against his temples. "I want to...no, I don't...I-I-I...__" He twitched as he stuttered and repeated himself a few times like a broken record._

_Canada withdrew a small blue pill. He made America open his mouth and forced him to swallow. America froze for a second. His eyes went red briefly, but they quickly filtered back to blue and his body relaxed. He began to slide down the tree, presumably to take a nap, but Canada knelt down to support his brother's shoulder._

_"Want to sleep..." America said drowsily. _

_"At the cabin," Canada assured. "But I can't carry you the whole way."_

* * *

><p>"Wait," England said, leaning forward. "You mentioned that America had started preferring knives during hunts by the time you two reconnected with each other, correct?"<p>

Canada nodded.

Prussia leaned forward as well, following a similar line of thought. "America, why do you chase the prey with a knife instead of just shooting it?"

America looked down at his hands. "I-...it feels good."

"And how often do you do it?" England interrogated without missing a beat.

America seemed to think about this for a minute. "Whenever I hunt so...a few times a year, maybe?"

"Do you usually feel..._urges_, shortly after doing it?" Prussia asked.

"No, actually," America answered. "Most of the time it actually kind of...stalls it. Like I have more time between attacks."

"And how do you feel while you do it?" England inquired. "And don't omit _anything_. No matter how insignificant or...disturbing."

America was silent for a moment. "I feel...exhilarated. I know the prey can't truly get away. I know it will run anyways, which makes it more fun for me. I feel empowered as I-...I _kill_ it. It's life was in my hands and I snuffed it out simply because I felt like it and I _love_ it. Every moment of it. I enjoy watching the life leave it, rendering it a corpse. Then it's over, and I feel...contented, in a way. Comforted by the knowledge that I can do it again."

Prussia's eyes shone excitedly. "I have an idea. A dangerous idea, but an idea all the same."

Canada raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And what idea would that be?"

"Sorry, Birdie," Prussia said deviously. "You'll have to wait and find out."

* * *

><p><strong>Aaaalrighty then, finally heard Canada's story. I had a few different versions for it...I hope I did okay in my decision.<strong>

**Thanks for reading, following, favoriting and/or reviewing! What do you guys think? I _promise_ that I don't bite.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	11. Chapter 11

**Day 4**

"America, if you want food then you'll probably find it _inside_ the refrigerator," England chided over the taller Nation's shoulder as he passed.

"Mmhm," America responded, barely acknowledging the Englishman's comment.

The green-eyed Nation stopped in his tracks with a frown and followed his former colonies eyes to a certain spot on the machine's door, where a certain necklace still hung from it's magnet. "Alfred..." he said after a moment. "Are you quite alright?"

The American stood, silently rooted in place for a second, before shaking his head violently. "I, um...I..." He hesitated, reluctant to answer.

"Tell me," England said firmly. When America still didn't answer, his voice softened as he tried again. "Are you feeling..._it _again?"

America turned to England with a solemn expression, and dread in his eyes. "...I want to stop it, but I'm afraid that I _can't b_ecause there's a small part of me that doesn't _want_ to stop...Then I think of what would happen if I let go...and I'm afraid of myself and I hate what I would do because it's bloody and angry and..." His voice took on a misty quality, and his blue eyes became unfocused. "...fun and powerful and it feels _so right_..."

England did _not_ like the sound of that. He slapped the dazed American across the cheek.

"Wh..." America snapped out of his spell and brought a hand up to his cheek.

"Do you _hear_ yourself right now?" the island Nation hissed. "It's getting _worse_."

America gave the Englishman an almost desperate look. "I-I know."

England put a hand on the taller Nation's shoulder. "It'll be fine. Go do math problems, read a book-do _something_ to calm yourself down and get your mind busy. I need to go talk to the others." He pointed at the fresh stack of equation filled sheets on the dining room table for good measure.

America nodded and trudged over to the table, pulling out a chair and plopping onto it. He began to work, muttering something about decay factor and formulas.

England sighed and made his way towards the porch, where Canada and Prussia were enjoying the breezy day. He stepped outside and breathed in the familiar sent moisture in the air. It would rain tonight, for sure.

"Well look who decided to show up!" Prussia said in his usual arrogant fashion. "Come join us, and tell me about our little killer is doing."

England's scowl nearly matched Canada's as he sat himself in a chair. "I'd rather you didn't refer to him in such a way. It's like tempting a caged tiger with jerky."

"Not well, then?" Prussia inquired lightly as he kicked his feet up onto the low table before before him.

"If only you'd heard him," England said quietly. "I caught him staring at that damn necklace...I honestly won't be surprised if he loses it _today_."

The trio was silent as this information was processed. Canada was the one to break the silence by asking, "What is he doing right now?"

"I had him go do Maths to calm down," the English Nation responded. "Although how effective it is, I couldn't say."

"Perfect," Prussia said happily. He lifted his feet off of the table and leaned forward intently. His companions leaned forward as well, to catch every word. "He's teetering on the edge. One more push is all we need."

"Aren't we trying to help him control himself though?" Canada asked confusedly.

"I'm glad you asked, Birdie," Prussia said with a grin. His expression turned serious. "He needs to be able to stop himself, no matter what. If things go according to plan, America will be the most tempted he's ever been. If he can stop himself, our work here is done. If not...I have a backup plan."

* * *

><p>England was correct, it was raining that evening. The heavy clouds made the night nearly black, and the forest outside could barely be seen through the thick raindrops that pattered against the windows. The occasional rolling thunder in the distance lent to the general creepy feel of the area.<p>

He sat in the dining room with Canada next to him. America sat at the other end, still doing math problems and steadily ignoring the Prussian that sat nearest him. No one had tried to strike up a conversation during this time period. The only noise that anyone made was the sound of a pencil scratching against occasionally shuffled paper.

England leaned back in his chair, wincing a the loud creak it made. Canada looked up briefly at the noise, before returning to tracing the grain of the wooden table. Prussia shot a smirk in their direction as if to say, _'Watch this'_.

Prussia initiated his plan by rapping his knuckles on the underside of the table, as loudly as possible. America frowned, but made no complaint. The albino upped the stakes a bit by sighing loudly and resting his chin on his hands, his face just inches away from America's.

The blond Nation leaned away slightly. "Dude, bubble space. We've been over this."

Prussia's smirk grew bigger as he scooted his chair even closer. "But I want to be in _this_ spot. So how about you move?"

America scowled slightly at his paper. "No, I was here first."

"Move over."

"No."

"I said scoot your fat ass over."

"No, fuck off."

England winced inwardly at the language. America didn't curse all that often. He only did that when he was truly irritable.

Prussia leaned back comically. "Ohhhh, someone's a bit grumpy," he mocked.

America sighed and scratched his head with his pencil tiredly. "How about you bother me after I finish this problem?"

"How about," Prussia stood, tearing the sheet of paper from America's hands. "you be done _now_, and move over like I _told_ you to!" He crumpled up the paper into a little ball and tossed it over his shoulder.

America got to his feet angrily, fists clenched. "What the hell's your problem?" he demanded.

"What's _your_ problem?" Prussia returned, crossing his arms. "What are you...two hundred, right? Three hundred at the most. Which means that I'm your senior by several centuries. I am also far more important, and I get what I want. So, move _over_, upstart." He pushed America with one hand, causing the blond Nation to take a surprised half-step back.

America steadied himself. His eyes narrowed as he regarded the albino before him. England blinked, and America lunged. His hands closed around Prussia's throat and lifted him up with a dark chuckle.

Canada spurred into action, practically leaping out of his chair and pulling America back. England followed closely, getting behind Prussia and pulling him the other way. America subsided the moment he was pulled away, looking at his own hands in absolute horror. England checked the coughing Prussia's throat for bruises. Finding none, he helped the ex-Nation into a chair.

"C-Canada..." America managed after a moment. "Did I just..."

"Yes," the violet-eyed Nation said solemnly. "You did."

England looked at the shaking Nation, wondering how he had gotten there from angry, bloodthirsty glee.

"I suspected as much," Prussia wheezed. He coughed again before continuing. "This just proves my theory. You _need_-" he paused to cough yet again, but much less severely. "You can't hold it in forever, in fact, I don't think _anyone_ could. What you _need_, is an outlet, or else you'll just keep exploding!"

"A-an outlet?" America asked quietly. "Like...murder?"

"No, no, no," Prussia said, his voice gaining strength again. "Listen here. Are you still feeling it, America?"

America winced and nodded slowly. "Y-yeah. It...it's not happy, I might add."

Prussia's eyes shone excitedly. "Well tell it to behave, at least for now. This is where Plan B comes into play." Thunder rolled in the distance as if to make his statement more foreboding.

Canada's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. "Plan B?"

"Indeed Birdie," the albino smirked. "An elegant, yet simple solution to our little problem."

"Care to make us privy to it?" England asked irritatedly, folding his arms.

Prussia look out the window contemplatively, observing the fact that it had just stopped raining. "Hm...from what I see, it's now or never."

* * *

><p>"America..." England said forlornly as his former colony stepped into the living room. He wore his bloodstained coat and boots, the ones England had seen on Halloween, and an unfortunately familiar necklace was clutched in his left hand.<p>

"This..." the American Nation stopped and looked down at himself. "I don't like this...I don't like this _at all_."

"I agree," Canada stated quietly. "This is stupid-_something_ will go wrong."

Prussia chose that moment to waltz into the room, his usual smirk not boding well for anyone there. He looked America up and down. "Hey, hey, hey! Look at Mr. Serial Killer here!

The blue eyed Nation frowned at the albino. "I'm not...like that. Not yet, anyway."

Prussia rubbed his hands together. "Well fix that soon enough." He turned to the English Nation and said, "England, I know this is sudden, but can you simulate chains with your magic?"

"Yes," England replied. "But they cannot last long."

Prussia nodded and turned to Canada. "After hearing your story, I have a theory. I think you can get to the America _we_ know the best when he's in this...'Kill Mode' of his. I might need you to do it again."

Canada gave a resigned sigh and nodded. Prussia turned, beckoning for everyone to follow. "You can do this. If not, I have another backup plan."

"Another one?" America asked, trailing behind everyone.

"Yep," Prussia answered cheerfully. His voice became marginally more serious for a moment when he said, "But we shouldn't need it." He pointed towards the rain-splattered glass door that would lead outside. "America, Canada. Wait out there for a moment, we'll be with you in just a sec."

When both twins left, Prussia faced England and said, "Alright, on the off chance that this doesn't work, we're going to have to do something we _really_ didn't want to do."

England followed Prussia into the kitchen, who opened the spice cabinet. He took down the box of Early Grey England had noticed earlier, and opened it. He looked inside of it. "..._Shit_."

"What?" England asked, worried at that tone. "What happened?"

The albino let out a strong curse in german and threw the box to the ground frustratedly. England noticed that it was empty.

"That damn Russian..." Prussia said, his voice shaking. "That damn, scheming, creepy-ass Russian! He took them! He took the pills!"

"What?!" England asked, shocked. "Why would he...?"

"It doesn't matter now," Prussia interrupted angrily. He stopped and kicked the box away from his foot. "Damn it all, I should have _known_ he pulled something when he left so fucking quick!"

"Calm down," England pleaded. "You need to be collected for this. _Especially_ since we apparently have no backup plan."

Prussia unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. "You're right, I need to pull together. They're waiting for us right outside-there's no time to have a fit."

"Exactly," England said, "We can demand answers from Russia later. Let's just get done with this first."

* * *

><p>They came out into the yard to see that they, indeed, did <em>not<em> have any more time.. Canada was a safe distance away, speaking in soothing tones to his brother. America was holding his hands against his head with his eyes tightly shut, twitching occasionally- a clear indicator of his mental state.

Both Nations rushed forward and England drew out his wand. "I can do the spell when you ask, but it'll last _maybe_ five minutes."

Prussia nodded and gripped America's shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

America twitched, and nodded, his eyes still squeezed shut.

"Listen to me. We're going to restrain you, and you are going to try and regain control. You'll have about five minutes. If you can't, and you get free before that, direct yourself into the woods. Try and regain some sense there. If all that fails...kill some_thing_, not some_one_. You get me?"

"G-got you," the blond Nation managed.

"You can do this," Prussia said determinedly. He released America's shoulder and stepped back. He said to England, "When it happens, cast your spell."

England gave the albino a serious look. "This had better work."

Prussia said nothing in response.

"Five minutes?" Canada asked suddenly. "Why so short?"

England twirled his wand nervously. "In most cases, it'd be much longer," he said. "However, America has an unusual amount of strength...it makes him harder to restrain because it takes more energy on my part."

Any response was cut off by America letting out a strangled yell and dropping to one knee. _"Do it now!" _he cried.

England waved his wand, sending two arcs of green light at the American. Glowing emerald chains wrapped around his wrists and anchored themselves into the ground. America was quiet for about thirty seconds, before he suddenly charged at the three Nations. The chains stopped his advance, and he snarled angrily, his eyes blazing red.

Canada looked at his twin sadly. "I hate seeing you like this," he said. "I know you wouldn't hurt anyone if you could help it."

America paused, giving his brother a completely blank look. His face contorted into anger again and he tugged roughly at his restraints. This elicited a gasp from England as he doubled over slightly, still stubbornly training his wand on the American to keep the spell up.

Prussia steadied the English Nation. "It's only been a minute! Keep going."

"I underestimated," the green eyed Nation gritted out. "Talk to him...get him to stop thrashing!"

Canada dared to step closer to the restrained Nation. "Alfred, I know you're in there. Talk to me-say something and show that you can hear me!"

The American snapped his teeth and charged again. Canada reflexively jumped back despite being out of reach. America saw this, and his eyes danced gleefully. His gaze swept over to England, who's shoulders were beginning to sag from exhaustion. He pulled again, and England actually stumbled in response. The chains seemed to lose a bit of their color.

Prussia took a few steps back. "He was better at controlling himself before, I thought. He should've at least briefly resurfaced by now, right?"

"He said...getting stronger," England panted, the tip of his wand faltering. "Maybe...not...such a good idea..." America noticed this and charged one more time, the chains pulled him back again one more time, and faded away. Prussia caught England before he could fall.

America looked down at his newly freed arms with a disturbing smile, his odd red irises resting on the two Nations. He took but two steps forward before Canada got directly in front of him, bodily blocking him from his chosen prey. America stopped and regarded him like one would a piece of meat.

"Alfred," Canada said quietly. "Stop it-I know you can."

America took another step, and shuddered to a stop. He was fighting it. Canada looked back at Prussia, who was still supporting England. "Get England back to the house-he's in no condition to do anything else. Hurry!"

They didn't need to be told twice. Prussia hefted England up again and hobbled him back towards the house. As they disappeared inside, Canada turned back to his brother. "Come on, Al. Don't give in."

* * *

><p><strong><em>I WILL MURDER THEM ALL!<em>**

No! I won't. They've done nothing wrong-!

**THEY DARED TO RESTRAIN ME! TO GET IN MY WAY! _I WILL EAT THEIR FUCKING HEARTS!_  
><strong>

I will not! This is wrong! My _own brother_ is scared of me-I can see it in his eyes!

**And it's a wonderful feeling, isn't it? To see the fear, to smell it in the air as I chase my prey, to taste it in their blood...**

Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, _shut up_! I _don't_ want to be feared, I _don't_ want to be hated, and I _don't_ want to be locked away for it!

**But I can't be locked away if I just kill them all...then there's no one to tell...no witnesses.**

No, I won't hurt Mattie. I'll...I'll run away if I have to.

**It'd be _so_ much easier to just kill them. And a _whole_ lot more fun.**

No I will _not_!

* * *

><p>Canada readied himself for anything as America twitched again. What's going on in there? America twitched three times in rapid succession, his left eye filtered into it's regular blue, lending him an asymmetrical and unbalanced look to his expression. His voice sounded extremely distant as he said, "Need to go...don't follow." He turned on his heel and dashed off, his coat flapping behind him as he disappeared into the woods.<p>

Prussia returned to see Canada rooted in his spot, watching the woods intently. The albino stood next to him and watched as well. "He run off?"

"Y-yes," Canada answered. "His eyes though...one of them turned blue, the other stayed red."

"Well, that kinda makes sense, if you think about it," Prussia said, bringing a hand to his chin contemplatively. "It sounds to me like neither side could regain full control, which is at least a _step_ in the right direction."

Canada twiddled his thumbs nervously. "I hope he's all right, though..."

"He'll be _fine_," Prussia reassured confidently. "This might actually be the best thing for him right now...being alone, that is."

The violet-eyed Nation said nothing in response, still fretting over his twin.

* * *

><p>America dashed through the woods, not thinking of where he was going or what he was doing, just trying to get <em>away<em>. He stopped by a big tree, the undisturbed ground marking just how deep in the woods he really was. His boots thumped against the ground as he paced, trying to figure himself out.

No one to kill here, which is good...and extremely disappointing. A rustle in the greenery behind him-a wild animal, then? He extended his awareness as a Nation...yes, a mountain lion. He retracted his awareness and took a deep breath. Prussia's words echoed through his mind.

_"...kill some_thing_, not some_one_."_

The big cat pounced as he turned around. His hand lashed out of it's own accord and closed around the thing's snout. He felt cartilage bend and bones snap as he tightened his grip and slammed the thing to the ground. The wounded animal struggled to lift itself, blood gushing freely out of it's mouth. It's body language showed utter terror as it trembled under the Nation's shadow.

America bent down and grasped the thing by the fur, lifting it up and eliciting a yelp of pain from the thing. He felt an odd sensation in his chest and stomach. Excitement, maybe? He wasn't sure, but he didn't want it to end.

The creature yowled and swiped at him, earning America a bleeding gash in his shoulder. He dropped it and viciously kicked it with an angry snarl. Bones and flesh gave in as the animal flew back a few feet. It stopped moving.

The feeling was gone, replaced by something else-almost like regret. Did he _really_ have to do that?

He turned on his heel and continued walking.

* * *

><p>"How long has it been?" Canada asked worriedly.<p>

Prussia shrugged. "I don't know. An hour, maybe?"

They were silent for a few minutes more, before Canada finally said, "I'm going after him."

"You're crazy," Prussia stated matter-of-factly. "But I can understand that."

The violet eyed Nation looked at the Prussian sidelong. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully.

"If it was my brother," Prussia answered, "I would too." He sighed tiredly. "You can't go alone, Birdie...so I'm coming with you."

Canada nodded in sincere thanks. "Alright...I can track him. His trail is easy to follow."

Prussia swept his hand in the direction of the woods.

* * *

><p>A few minutes brought America to a moderately sized clearing, with oddly placed dirt mounds and an old shack.<p>

He hurriedly stepped back into the brush as he heard the rumble of a motor and crunch of tires on dirt. An old, beat-up white pickup truck, it's windows tinted so that no one could see inside. The driver stepped out, a muscled looking guy with dark slacks and a pristine white shirt under a tan blazer, his eyes shaded over by a pair of sleek sunglasses.

He walked around to the passenger side, and dragged something out. When he came into sight again, it was revealed to be a brunette girl, nineteen at the most. Her khakis and green blouse were bloodied and torn. Her wide, bespectacled eyes showed complete, unadulterated terror as she was dragged by the hair towards the shack.

The shack door closed, and America stepped out of hiding. He wondered what he would do. It really wasn't his business, so he started to move on. His boot kicked something on the ground. He looked down at it. A human skull.

A new emotion stirred inside of him. Like anger, but...purer? Kind of? This man was a killer. Like himself, true. But he felt no remorse...ever. There _was_ no better side of this man, telling him of all the wrong he's doing, or trying to stop him. Just...a killer. He regarded the shack, getting angrier every second. This man didn't deserve to live. With that in mind, America growled and flung the thing over his shoulder, not caring where it landed.

He spotted an array of wicked looking tools hanging on the shack, glinting in the moonlight. America approached carefully, being sure to stay completely silent. He wondered what to pick. So many options..._perfect_. He hefted the pickaxe, getting a feel for it's weight. It felt almost like it was _meant_ for him.

He turned towards the pickup truck gleefully. First, he'd eliminate all routes of escape. He crossed to the front tire on the driver side. He readied a swing, but stopped. The popping noise would alert his prey. So, he lowered the tool slowly, forcefully piercing the tire and dragging a long gash in it. There was a sigh of air as it was released from the tire. He did the same to the next two, and as he started on the last one, he heard a piercing scream come from the shack.

America couldn't help rocking his head back and shuddering in pleasure at the delightful sound. Part of him knew it was wrong, but the other part of him didn't care. He shook his head, snapping himself out of it as he finished with the tire and stomped towards the shack, not bothering to hide his presence anymore. He kicked the flimsy door open, and dispatched of the pit bull chained to a nearby post with a second kick into it's side. The man, who had been hunched over a table, turned around in surprise.

Their eyes met, and America recognized them. They were the same eyes. The same ones he saw so many years ago. The same eyes that made him like _this_...the same as his own, at times.

The man wiped his bloodied hands on his pants, seemingly not worried. He regarded America for a full minute before saying, "There's something about you. Something...different." His accent marked him as a foreigner, but the vowels indicated that he'd been in the United States for some time. He leaned on the table casually. "Ah, I understand. You're a lot like _me_, aren't you?" He turned his back on the blond Nation and made a dismissive gesture. "There's nothing for you here. This one's mine, get your _own_ toy." His voice sounded flippant, like he was just going about his usual business. Which he probably _was_, actually.

America twitched angrily. In a gravelly tone, he responded, "No...not like you." He reached with the pickaxe and hooked the man's shoulder, forcing him back away from the table.

The man spun to face his adversary. "You're_ on my hunting ground_. That would make you prey. But I was willing to let you off because you were _obviously_ busy with some fun of your own." He gestured to America's soiled clothes before cracking his knuckles sharply. "But if you won't leave..." He swung a punch aimed at America's jaw.

America smiled coldly as he caught the punch and began to crush the man's fist. The man yelped and wriggled in pain, trying to get his hand free. "You..." he said lowly. "_You_ dare compare yourself to _me_? _You_, who has no conscience. _You_, who uses the most cliched modus operandi that I've _ever_ seen." He tugged the man back and spun him around to face his whimpering, bloodied victim restrained and blindfolded on the table. "You, who only sees a piece of meat on that table." He turned and shoved the man through the door, causing it to splinter as he was thrown through.

* * *

><p>Canada held up his hand. "Wait," he whispered as he pointed up ahead. "Look."<p>

Prussia peered closely, and saw none other than America, his back to them. He stood on the edge of a clearing, studying something in his hand. A growl tore from his throat as he threw it carelessly over his shoulder. It landed a few feet away from the spying Nations. It rolled a bit closer, revealing the ghastly grin of a human skull.

"That's not recent," Prussia muttered into his ear as they watched America stealthily approach an old shack at the other end of the clearing. "And it's not missing any teeth either...that's not his kill."

Canada expelled the breath he'd been holding in relief. "Oh, good," he whispered back.

They saw America turn away from the shack, with what looked like a pickaxe resting on his shoulder.

Canada started to rise. "Oh, no. He's going to-"

Prussia bodily forced him back down. "_Wait_ a minute, Birdie," he said in a hushed tone "Going out there very well makes our current lives forfeit."

_"So what?"_ the violet-eyed Nation demanded furiously. "We can't just let him-"

"Birdie!" Prussia scolded, clapping a hand over the northern Nation's mouth. "Let me finish! And for God's sake _be_ _quiet_!"

Canada subsided, still watching as America began popping the tires of an old white pickup truck. "But he's going to _kill_ someone-another fucking tooth for his necklace..."

"I know," Prussia said quietly. "Trust me, I know. But _think_ about this for a moment. That skull on the ground? Was _not his kill_. So who's was it?"

A pained scream ripped through the air. America shuddered and arched his back blissfully at the sound, the moonlight reflecting off of his glasses.

Canada's eyes widened slightly. "No..."

"Yes," the albino corrected.

The screaming ceased, and America straightened, shaking his head violently. He slashed the last tire and stomped back towards the shack, his shoulders hunched forward and his free hand tightly clenched. He kicked open the door of the dilapidated building and disappeared inside.

* * *

><p>The man scrambled back along the ground, clutching his ruined hand. America twitched again and swung his weapon smoothly off of his shoulder, burying the tip into the man's thigh. The man let out a pained grunt, but America needed more. He used the flatter end of the pickaxe to take out the man's shoulder, eliciting an actual cry of pain.<p>

"Scream for me!" America yelled. He slammed the pickaxe handle into the man's face. After that, he kicked the man's chest with his steel-toed boot, causing the man to fall back with a choked gasp and a smattering of blood that flew onto the blond Nation's cheek, lending him a savage look. He stepped on the man's uninjured hand, and smashed it under his foot.

The man finally screamed. America threw back his head in ecstasy, eyes closed, savoring the sound. The man stopped and the American felt extremely disappointed. "Your screams are so delicious...don't stop yet." He slowly pressed the head of the heavy pickaxe into the man's ribcage.

* * *

><p>Canada closed his eyes sadly as a second scream from the serial killer-turned-victim echoed through the night. America's blood splattered face was contorted into absolute glee as he worked, and it pained the Canadian to see it.<p>

"I see that his eyes are still two different colors," the Prussia observed quietly. "Is it possible that the America _we_ know is actually letting this happen because he _enjoys_ it?"

"No," Canada answered grimly. "I think that what we're seeing here, is a twisted version of my brother's sense of vigilante justice."

Prussia exhaled sharply. "_Fuck_...alright. It's time to stop this."

* * *

><p>America knew the man wouldn't last much longer. He was evidently already hazy from the blood loss. The blond Nation narrowed his eyes and stooped down to the man's level. "One more," he ordered. "Impress me this time." He used his free hand to grasp the man's ear, and began to tear it off, dragging it out as long as he could.<p>

The man screamed again. He screamed and cried until he was hoarse. The ear came off completely, and he was reduced to a pile of sobs, sweat, piss, and blood. America threw it away and grabbed the man's jaw. He forced it open, and pulled out an eyetooth in a practiced motion. This earned a soft moan of pain that made America smile serenely.

"Alfred!"

The blond Nation frowned and stood up, turning around to see none other than Canada and Prussia running towards him. He regarded down at the mewling lump at his feet, and kicked it sharply.

* * *

><p>"Stop it!" Prussia yelled. He bodily pushed America away from the man and stepped in front of him. "You've done enough, already."<p>

America stepped forward, presumably to get Prussia away from his prize. Canada moved to stand next to the albino, giving America pause.

"No more, America," Canada said firmly. "I know this man is an evil, _evil_ person. But right now, you're not acting any better than him."

America stance was firm, but the pickaxe hung loosely in his hand, like he wasn't sure of what to do with it. He listened to Canada's words with a confused expression.

"You said so yourself, murder is not an outlet," Prussia reminded him. "You also said that you don't like being this way...was that a lie?"

America twitched and shook his head violently. "N-no...I'm not...I don't..."

"Is this _who you_ _are_, Alfred?" Canada demanded, advancing on his brother. He gripped his shoulders and shook them. _"Is it?"_ he demanded again.

America's face fell slack as he seemed to consider the Canadian's words. He slowly looked down at himself, and then at his hands. He dropped the weapon and brought his hands to his head. "No...no, no, no, _no_!" He kicked the pickaxe further away from himself in disgust. His eyes started to flicker and switch between red and blue. It was clear that he having a meltdown.

Canada was there for him when America dropped to his knees, hyperventilating. He was there when America let out a hiccup and began to sob into his shoulder. He was there when his brother's eyes finally settled on their original sky blue color.

Prussia, meanwhile, had checked the man's vital signs. He'd live, probably, but he was crippled for life. It was more mercy than this man deserved, but it would do.

"There's...there's a woman...i-in the shack..." America said shakily. "Injured...I didn't...I didn't do it, though..." He fell silent again, looking down so that his hair hung over his blood splattered face.

"We know, Al," Canada said soothingly. "We know. Let's just get you back to the house, okay?"

* * *

><p>England came in just in time to see America shuffle into the kitchen, still in his bloodied clothing. But his eyes were blue again...so the plan was successful?<p>

Canada and Prussia followed, the albino holding a bloodied and dirty woman in a bridal carry.

"Well?" England asked. "Did it work?"

America regarded England for a full minute before giving a noncommittal shrug and heading off in the direction of the bathroom, presumably to wash the blood off.

England raised one enormous eyebrow, looking towards Prussia for help.

"Just a moment," the Prussian said, "Let me put this woman to bed, first. She's had quite an ordeal." He brushed past England and trudged up the stairs, towards the guest bedrooms.

Canada trudged into the living room and crashed tiredly on the couch with a contented sigh. England seated himself on the edge of the recliner. "Seriously, did it work?"

Canada looked at the English Nation and shrugged, saying nothing.

England scowled and leaned forward. "How about an _actual_ answer?"

The violet-eyed Nation was quiet for a moment more as he listened to the sound of running water in the bathroom down the hall. "Actually...we don't know."

"How can you not know?" England demanded irritably. "Are you telling me that he _still_ might go on random rampages after all of this? That he hasn't figured out how to control himself yet?"

"We really don't know," Canada answered honestly. "It was all confused towards the end-and he hasn't told us wether he's still feeling his...urges."

Prussia chose that moment to come back down the stairs, jump over the back of the couch, and land next to Canada, stealing a pillow for himself. "He's taking a shower," Prussia said, "We can ask him when he comes out, _ja_?"

"Fill me in then, before he comes out," England decided, crossing one leg over the other. "I want some background knowledge before I hear a final verdict."

* * *

><p>America entered the living room an hour later, dressed in pajamas and thankfully free of blood and dirt. He looked around and noticed his three companions looking at him expectantly. "What?"<p>

England began with, "How are you feeling after all of this?"

"Er..." America appeared to go through a brief mental checklist before answering. "...Fine, I guess. I'm glad the woman's safe, glad I didn't kill anybody...glad that I'm not _currently_ trying to kill anybody..."

"'Currently'?" Prussia asked sharply, peering closely at the blue-eyed Nation for any hints of red. "It's still there? Do you still feel it? Have you felt it since returning home?"

America rubbed his wrist nervously. "Well...yeah. Kinda. A little bit..." He paused and took a deep breath. "I felt it in the shower. But it was different this time. It was more of a...how do I put this...It was more of a light suggestion than an uncontrollable urge, if that makes any sense."

"I don't think it will ever make sense to anyone but you," Canada said solemnly. "But the real question is this. Can you _control_ it?"

America was silent for a moment as he considered the question. "...Yeah, I think I can manage it."

England stood up and stretched. "Good, now let's move on to the final test."

"Test?" America asked a bit apprehensively. "What test?"

"A World Meeting, of course!" Prussia cackled. "The one thing that's enough to try _any_ Nation's patience!"

* * *

><p><strong>There you go, an extra loooooooooong chapter for you guys. I've been writing and rewriting for seven flippin' hours with few breaks, so I hope you guys like it. And yes, I changed the rating to 'M' for obvious reasons.<strong>

**Thanks for the favs, follows, and reviews that I've gotten for this story. Could I get some opinions on how this is going? Part of me feels a bit ridiculous for surrendering to this plot bunny, so I'd really, really, like to know what you all think.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


	12. Chapter 12

America took a deep breath as he stood before the large double doors that separated him from the World Meeting room. It'd be his first time seeing-or even _talking_ to-another Nation for several weeks.

He pushed one of the large doors partially open and slipped inside, hoping to avoid having _too_ much attention from everyone...

* * *

><p>England ducked just out of sight of his pursuer, and gave a sigh of relief as the France passed right by him. The meeting hasn't started yet, which didn't make sense since frog-face was already here, him being the host Nation this time around. No one's even sat down yet. Everyone was milling about and having casual conversation...except for Romano who cursing at Spain as usual.<p>

"Is America-san returning to us, today?" Japan asked politely.

England snapped out of his reverie and looked at the Japanese Nation with light irritation. "That would make you the fifth to ask me that this morning. And yes, he is."

Japan gave a slight bow. "_Gomenasai_, England-san. I did not realize." He straightened and gained the slightest sign of a smile. "But this is good to hear. America-san has not returned my calls since the...incident."

England closed his eyes tiredly. He knew _exactly_ what Japan was talking about. "No, _I_ must apologize for being so rude. You are the first to express actual _concern_ for him rather than apprehension."

"Of, course, England-san," Japan responded. "America-san is a good friend, and I will not abandon him. He would not abandon me if I were in his situation."

Italy came up behind Japan and latched onto his shoulders cheerfully. "Japan! Guess what I had for breakfast today!"

Japan seemed to earnestly think about this for a moment. "...Pasta?"

Italy nodded happily. "Mhmm! And America is coming today, which means he can have pasta too and then feel all better! Pasta cures all ills!"

England shook his head. It was hard to believe that Italy was actually one of the older Nations, with how he acted. So innocent, despite everything that's happened the past few centuries...

The door opened, and everyone turned to stare. America surveyed the room, his expression giving away nothing. He shrugged and made a beeline to his brother. The two began a quiet conversation that no one else could hear. It was clear that they were ignoring the rest of the world's stares.

Italy looked towards the North American twins with a hint of chagrin. "I don't think this meeting will do anything to help," he said in a slightly more serious tone.

"He said that has a handle on it," England said nervously. "It should be fine. He's not scheduled to speak today, anyways. All he has to do is sit still and act normal."

"Have you ever known America to sit still for long?" Japan asked.

England sighed and shook his head in response.

* * *

><p>"Are you okay?" Canada inquired quietly.<p>

"'m fine," America mumbled in response. "Although I could do without the accusing glares." He sent a pointed look at Cuba, actually causing the island Nation to visibly flinch and look away.

Canada offered a wry smile. "When are you _not_ getting accusing glares at these things?"

America opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. He glanced around the room. "Yeah, I guess your right...Where's Russia? I hear he tried to sabotage me by taking the pills from their hiding place. I'd _like_ to give him a piece of my mind."

"Not here," Canada said almost relievedly. "Had some business with his mafia, I think. You don't need to be starting fights this time around anyways. Have you noticed that people are giving us a bit more space than usual?"

America looked at his surroundings and found that, indeed, there was a ring of deserted floor space around them. America sighed and looked back at his brother. "Understandable, since the last time anyone really saw me I was..." he trailed off and rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. "...yeah."

"They'll get over it," Canada reassured. The wry smile returned. "They'll be laughing and insulting you again before you know it, so don't worry."

"_Thanks_, bro," America said sarcastically. "I feel all better now."

* * *

><p>England made a point to sit next to America, and to loudly proclaim him to be a git. America laughed this off in his usual fashion, and wondered aloud if there was going to be a lunch break. Everything seemed normal, and the tension in the room gradually decreased.<p>

But no one could quite forget what had happened. This became quite evident when lunch finally rolled around.

* * *

><p>"Hamburger-bastardo! Spain's trying to find me," Romano stated matter-of-factly as he shouldered past America. "I, will be in this broom closet. Direct him elsewhere when he comes this way." He didn't allow time for a response as he firmly shut the wooden door behind him.<p>

The blond Nation regarded the now occupied closet for a moment, before shaking his head and turning away. Maybe he should stay out of this one and just go to the kitchens.

Alas, this was not to be. Spain came down the hall, an easy-yet-evil smile on his face and, for some reason, bunny ears clutched in his hand. "Oh, Romanooooo," he called. "I have tomaaatoooes!"

America stifled a snicker as Spain passed. The brunette Nation jumped at the sudden noise. "Oh! Ah, America! Si, hello, wrong way, bye!" He beat a hasty retreat in the opposite direction.

A few lingering Nations in the hallway seemed to stop with bated breath, waiting for his reaction, possibly. America went with the one approach that never failed him.

Obliviousness.

He quickly covered his disappointment with a light frown, and scratched his head in confusion, as if not comprehending Spain's behavior. He then shrugged and continued on his way, towards the kitchens.

* * *

><p>Prussia walked up just in time to see Spain's retreating figure, America's dismayed look, and Romano peaking out behind the closet with something akin to shame to color his usual sour expression. He guessed what had happened immediately. He pushed Romano back into the closet, entered it himself, and shut the door to give them some privacy.<p>

"What the hell?!" the Italian exclaimed furiously, pulling the cord for the single hanging lightbulb that would illuminate the space.

"Did you do that on purpose?" Prussia demanded flatly.

Romano looked down at his shoes as if trying to come up with an answer. The albino crossed his arms and resisted the urge to tap his foot impatiently.

"I honestly didn't think Spain would react that way," Romano finally exhaled. "But...the possibility crossed my mind."

"Either way, it worked for you," Prussia clarified irritatedly.

Romano's scowl deepened and he shoved his hands into his pockets. "...That is true." He gave the Prussian a defiant glare. "I understand that you're trying to help. But you freaking out over everything that goes wrong and micromanaging isn't helping _either_."

Prussia was taken aback by this insight. He didn't have an answer for that.

Romano sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, bastardo. I don't really want to see America ostracized for this. _All_ Nations have a dark side. His just happens to be...a bit louder. But this is all part of the process, si? You can't be there for everything, and most of the others _aren't there to help_. It's up to him."

Prussia frowned. "I see your point. But that doesn't stop me from worrying."

"Of course not," the Italian Nation snorted. "You're just that way." He pushed past Prussia and grasped the doorknob. "Now let me out of this damn closet, it's stuffy and I don't want the other bastardos getting the wrong idea."

* * *

><p>Germany bumped into someone just as he turned the corner to leave the kitchen. He stumbled back, and braced himself against the wall to avoid falling. "Watch it!" He straightened his suit irritatedly. "Honestly, you need to be more careful when..." He looked up and met a familiar blue-eyed gaze.<p>

"S-sorry, dude," America said. "I didn't see you there." He seemed a bit distracted, like there were more pressing things on his mind than apologies or social graces.

Germany sighed and clasped his hands behind his back. "Like I said, be more careful in the future." He paused to look the American Nation up and down. "You're looking well. Much better than when I last saw you."

America snapped to attention at this. "Er, yeah! I took care of...that thing." He rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably.

_"Gut,"_ Germany said shortly. He'd never been one for beating around the bush. "That means I can expect more productivity and availability on your part in the future. No more weeks of avoiding phone calls, and no more periods of dropping off the face of the earth for three days or more, correct?"

America smiled, clearly relieved at having a relatively normal exchange today. "Well...no one's perfect, so there will still be some occasions where I'm gone. But I'll be available _more_ now since I don't have to account for certain things."

"That's the most I can ask of you," Germany decided tiredly. He offered the barest hint of a smile. "It is good to see you back, though." With that, he exited the kitchen, mentally preparing himself for what would probably an _especially_ stressful second half of a World Meeting.

* * *

><p>America was in a noticeably brighter mood after lunch, which made Canada feel much better. But he was also noticeably bored, which made Canada apprehensive all over again. Maybe he'd take it easy and just decide to...oh, yes he is. Thank <em>God<em>...he's taking a nap instead of being immature this time.

England looked at America in light distaste, before pointedly ignoring the sleeping Nation next to him and speaking amiably with Romania. Canada sighed and looked around. No one was really paying attention anymore, but no one was in a really mischievous mood, either. About as close to world peace as they'd ever gotten.

He subtly glanced towards to clock ticking away the minutes on the wall...two more minutes. Then he can finally leave, go back to the hotel room, and watch french television with his brother until bedtime.

Alfred let out a soft snore in his sleep, causing a few to shoot wary/irritated glances at him. Alfred was ready for bed already, it seemed.

* * *

><p>"Bruder, could you see who is at the door?"<p>

Prussia sat up in his bed tiredly. _"Warum ich?" _he asked, scratching his messy silver hair.

_"Da Sie näher an die Tür sind,"_ Germany muttered in response. He rolled over to face the wall, already beginning to fall asleep again.

He heard the albino lurch to his feet and stumble towards the door. The door clicked as he turned the knob, and a rectangle of yellowish light illuminated a portion of the wall as it was opened.

Germany idly observed three silhouettes. One was his brother, holding open the door. The second was a widely built man with bulging muscles. The third actually seemed to be in a wheelchair.

"What the-" Prussia began. Germany shot out of the bed when he saw the bigger man's hand grasping something vaguely gun-shaped. Prussia doubled over and fell back without a sound.

Germany turned to face these attackers, sorely wishing for a weapon. Kidnappers again? That would make the third time this year...

He blinked in surprise when his eyes rested upon a familiar face. What was his name again? Mr...Mr. Jay, wasn't it?

He felt a painful prick in his thigh, the world spun, and he blacked out.

* * *

><p>I was going to end the story here...but Mr. Jay <em>really<em> wanted a comeback. So take it up with him...

**Translations(Google Translate, because I still haven't learned any German, nor have I gotten to know any Germans to translate for me...):**

_**German-**_

**_"Warum ich?" _"Why me?"**

**_"Da Sie näher an die Tür sind." _"Because you're closer to the door."**

**Thanks for the support this story's gotten. It grew significantly more than I expected it to, and I like to know that people decided to stick with it. Review and tell me what you think? I know I'm dragging this out a bit, but I'd like some feedback-if you don't mind too much, of course.**

**Later dudes. ^J^**


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